Advent of Orion
by mak89
Summary: All of it started with confusion and terror and didn't get any better from there. A look in his father's old invention leaves a twenty three year old Stanford drop out with thousand questions and no way to find answers to them. Well it's like they say if there is something that doesn't make sense, let's go and poke it with stick. Beta'ed by my good friend LancerGaShinda
1. Chapter 1

"Chuck."

If one could try staring at Charles Irving Bartowski – aka Chuck, the twenty-three year-old lanky brown-haired Stanford dropout – they wouldn't find anything interesting about him. And he didn't blame people for that. He knew what he was.

Ridiculously average.

"Chuck, pay attention."

He really felt like he could use some sleep but the workload kept piling up, and the Buy More was the only place willing to employ someone branded as a cheater. Even though it was his roommate / best friend, Bryce "Douchebag" Larkin, who put those papers under his bed. As if that wasn't enough – instead of comforting him or backing him up, his girlfriend (whom he was planning to marry, which in retrospect would have been somewhat hasty) actually slept with Bryce. What a fantastic way to add insult to injury. He had no option but to work extra hours because he couldn't afford to disappoint his manager.

"Chuck!"

The woman in front of him literally yelled in his face, jolting the young man from his introspection and off his desk, which he grabbed to stop himself hitting the floor. He let out a sigh as he found himself facing an exasperated glare from his newly appointed assistant manager. Understandably, he was actually trying catch a bit of a power nap after dealing with dozens of broken computers.

All he could offer was an apologetic look. No excuses. He literally ran out of everyone he had. "Sorry, Hannah."

And he was. Most guys at the Buy More would have been chomping at the bit and wouldn't have even dreamed of falling asleep if they had the chance to share work-space with Hannah Williams.

They weren't friends. Even acquaintances would be a long stretch – which was unfortunate, seeing as she was quite an incredible girl.

She had long dark hair, green eyes, and a body to go with it all. Furthermore, she was a UCLA graduate, she successfully juggled her Buy More job with freelance contracts and her parents were really rich. And last but not least, she was going to leave this place by month's end.

However, Chuck knew very well where he stood in terms of social hierarchy. His chances of getting anywhere past her name were... arguably somewhere between 'fat chance' and 'snowball's chance in hell'.

Letting out a sigh, Hannah shook her head. "It's alright. You are the only one who managed to get halfway. The others are still far behind." She tapped on the table, glancing at the completed socket. "You know – if you try a bit harder, you can still get something out of life. I mean compared to the others, you do some quality work around here."

Laughing a bit, Chuck nodded in gratitude. "Thanks."

Hannah rolled her eyes in irritation. Despite what people believed, she was quite attentive to detail and the fact that she was studying management also helped. This guy was probably the only decent techie the place had to offer and he didn't seem to have many friends. He was trying to get someone hired – Moran or something like that – but the manager hadn't approved their application yet. She knew he was kicked out from Stanford but didn't know the exact details. Though he didn't seem like someone who would engage in any sort of problematic activities.

"Do you want a hand? I studied the same subjects as you did." She offered.

"Nah, I am pretty fine on my own." Chuck waved his hands with a lame smile and immediately became absorbed in his work.

Hannah frowned a bit before walking away. If the idiot was too prideful to admit that he could use some help, she had no reason to help him out. In the end, it wasn't her business.

...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxx...

Well after eight in the evening, Chuck entered his residence (or rather, Ellie and Devon's residence). Both of them were out of town, on some romantic trekking trip. Morgan was visiting his cousin in Canada. In short, he had the house all to himself... which didn't make him feel any better. Perhaps he should have stayed at Buy More for the extra bucks.

He walked around the room, glancing at the picture of his parents. Just thinking about them instilled a dull anger, the sort one feels when a long-standing issue couldn't be resolved.

His father was a commercial scientist / engineer who disappeared seven years ago; his mother had been gone for so long that he couldn't remember anything about her besides her name and picture.

One after another, both of them left him and Ellie.

With no contingency plan, no contact around to take them in and no money to help them out, Chuck would have become a 14 year-old ward of the state were it not for Ellie – somehow – successfully juggling her high school / college education with her new role as his _de facto_ surrogate mother. Thankfully, they managed to pull through; he got into Stanford and Ellie got into medical school.

But then Larkin had to strike.

His degree and fiancée were now gone. He was tagged as a cheater and would never be able to work as an official software engineer or (as he ultimately wanted) to become the next Bill Gates. At least his sister found some sort of closure in life – she was a doctor and had a lovely and awesome boyfriend. But he was still stuck in the hole. If the cause had been of his own making, that might have been easier to accept. Not this. It would have been funny if this entire scenario wasn't so pathetic.

He had enough of the 9-to-5 crap, but what the hell was he going to do with his own life? Everything was so confusing, so frustrating and it just made him very angry.

Clenching his fists tightly, he walked into his room (it was originally his father's before he disappeared). He started stomping on everything with a purpose. He had many ideas when he was at Stanford. Ideas which could have made him rich and famous. Perhaps if he took a good look at them, he could reignite that spark he once had. However, the passing of time meant his notes made less sense than they used to, and his designs were either too complicated to work on alone or too costly to actualize. A part of him felt that he might have just lost his edge or perhaps his work from back then wasn't as relevant three years later. He just didn't know what to do about it.

Though tearing through his own closet felt therapeutic.

Eventually, he found something lying behind his drawer. A small case, which appeared to be a bit old and dusty but something about it screamed 'important'. His father's name was written on it and just reading that was enough to send him into a small fit of rage.

He was so upset he didn't even notice the biometric scanner on the front and when his finger brushed against it the case opened with a loud hiss, momentarily startling him. As soon as it opened, he was quite surprised to find a wristwatch of sorts and a bunch of little instruments alongside manuals which seemed like gibberish.

_What the hell is this?_

As he pulled out the light green, somewhat shiny wristwatch, Chuck had to admit it looked moderately trendy.

_It doesn't show the time, though. Perhaps it needs a battery._

The moment he placed it on his wrist, the watch started producing a multitude of images and audio files. What amused him most was the image of Ryu from _Street Fighter_. It was followed by a guy climbing a mountain. Then a sparring match between two Marines. Then someone in a bomb disposal suit trying to deactivate an explosive. It was hard to make sense of these things. Or figure out what on earth was happening, because Chuck – try as he might – was unable to look away. There was a comfortable tingle inside his brain; a sensation which felt simultaneously pleasant and stimulating. Before long, everything became a blur and his eyes remained glued to the small dial of the watch...

...until it clicked off on its own. The involuntarily compelling slide show was replaced with what appeared to be the date and time.

_No way! It's almost midnight?!_

Chuck shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't have spent more than a few minutes staring at those images, right? That didn't make sense. Immediately, he stared at his own reflection in the mirror and was quite horrified at what he saw – his skin was pale, his eyes bloodshot and he was shaking furiously. He clenched his stomach, starting to feel nauseous all of a sudden.

He did the only thing he could do. He passed out.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

**I finally have a Beta XD**


	2. Chapter 2

Vice Admiral Michael Kernan was enjoying a very relaxing day. He started out with a very pleasant walk with his grandson in a very beautiful garden, situated in one of his own estates. Then he had breakfast at a famous local diner with his cousin / best friend, General Adam Stanfield. He hadn't seen much of him ever since Adam got promoted in NATO so it was nice to have a little chit chat with his old friend. Eventually, he arrived at the NGA headquarters and headed towards his office. Being the gregarious director he was, he felt the need to soak up as much of the agency and its personnel as he possibly could in his limited schedule. He wasn't getting any younger, after all. That was just a fact of life.

After taking a relaxing stroll, he entered his chambers. Taking a long breath, he tried to enjoy a momentary zen experience before work started. Then all of a sudden, his phone rang. After calmly glaring at his desk for a while, he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Sir, we have an emergency. George Bowman wants to see you."

"George, as in the lead scientist in Computer and Telecommunication Engineering?" Michael raised an eyebrow. George wasn't someone who ever paid a direct visit to his office unless some crisis was happening, The last time he did that was during the Space Shuttle _Columbia_ disaster.

"Send him in!"

The moment he uttered those words, a frantic-looking old man slammed the door open, ignoring all etiquette and common sense before literally dashing in front of his desk. Michael could clearly see the distress in his eyes.

"What's wrong, George? Why are you so worked up?"

"Sir, we found a signal. After eleven years we finally found it." George stated, his voice mixed with both excitement and panic. "The prototype Orion was building for DIS before he vanished has now been activated. No doubt about it."

"Are you sure about this? As far as I know Orion destroyed both prototypes before he disappeared." Michael narrowed his eyes.

"One thousand percent. The frequency matches that of the homing beacon we put inside the hardware. For many years we thought Orion figured it out and removed it, but I was wrong." George nodded affirmatively.

"Where is the signal coming from? Have you triangulated its position?" Michael asked. He was quite eager to see the legendary Orion in person. No one knew what he looked like. Or even his... or her gender, for that matter. What Michael did know was that Orion was a top researcher working for the government and had successfully kept his / her identity a secret. Apparently one of the projects they were working on had gone wrong, which led to Orion cutting off all ties with the government and disappearing into thin air as if they never existed.

"Yes, Sir. The prototype has been activated in a house situated in Echo Park, Burbank, LA."

"I see." Michael let out a chuckle. He knew that area very well; he was posted there a few years ago before his promotion and he visited Burbank quite frequently as his daughter lived there. The last time he went there was to attend his granddaughter's birthday party in December. Perhaps it was time for another check up on the little rascal.

The admiral nodded his head in understanding. "Tell all stations to stand down. I will take a small squad with me just for the sake of formality. I want to deal with this matter personally."

"Sir?"

"Orion is not a terrorist, George. If we can talk to him, we might be able to reach an understanding." Michael replied in a firm tone, leaving no further room for discussion. "Tell Emily to cancel all of my meetings. I am going to meet a very special guest." He added hastily, tilting his head towards George before leaving through the door.

The Vice Admiral's sudden departure left his entire staff looking a bit flabbergasted.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

A little while later and many miles away from Fort Belvoir, a miserable-looking young man woke up, scrubbing the top of his head while mumbling all sorts of complaints under his breath. He felt physically alright though, as the only remaining symptom of the previous night's incident was a slight headache. His somber mood continued as he dragged himself inside the washroom.

"Man! That hurt like hell." Chuck let out a groan while splashing water on his face. "Take note, Bartowski. Get your facts straight before touching your deadbeat dad's stuff. That was scary. I really felt like I was about to turn into a zombie and go out on a rampage, evil dead style."

_That kinda sounds cool, though._

He took another look around his room. He needed to fix everything before Ellie and Awesome arrived, or she would definitely ground him like she used to during his high school days. He also didn't want to go through the headache of explaining everything to her.

Kicking the door open, he immediately went to the kitchen in order to make himself some breakfast. Which was his usual plan of action for the morning. Perhaps an omelet and some orange juice would do. He didn't want to be late for Buy More. However, he received the shock of his life when he saw an old man dressed in Naval uniform, with the stars, shoulder boards, and sleeve stripes of a U.S. Navy vice admiral of the "line" reading the newspaper while sitting on his kitchen table. After noticing his arrival the old man looked at him, offering him a small smile.

"Morning, lad! Would you like to have a seat? You seem a bit rough."

"Oh sure, I will just... HEY!" Chuck suddenly shouted in alarm and leapt back, only to realize where exactly he had seen this man before.

"VADM Michael Kernan? You run the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency, right?"

"Glad to see that you recognize me. I never thought anyone would have seen that interview on CNN." Michael replied with an amused smile, staring at him expectantly.

"Hey! Don't change the topic! This... is breaking and entering." Chuck pointed his finger accusedly towards the elder.

"Oh, is that right? My apologies." Michael let out a hearty laugh.

"Forget it. He really doesn't mean that." A female voice called out from behind, which apparently belonged to a pretty woman around Chuck's age with brown hair and matching eyes. She extended her hand towards him with a friendly smile. "Hi, I am Lt Lou Palone. I'm in charge of the Director's security."

Chuck gulped nervously for a moment but shook her hand regardless.

"Ummm... I am Chuck. I fix computers at Buy More."

"Nice meeting you, Chuck. Let me fix some breakfast for you guys." She replied kindly before marching towards the kitchen.

"She can't help herself. Both her parents are chefs. She is a pretty good soldier though. No doubts about that." Michael shook his head. The young man followed them with his eyes as he carefully moved around the table.

Sweating bullets, Chuck scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He wasn't someone who could survive prison and the number of secured government websites he hacked into... just for 'fun' was more than enough to earn him a life sentence.

_Holy crap! They didn't figure out I'm the Piranha, right?_

Taking a long breath, he gathered his courage. Why would the director of the NGA would be interested in Piranha? That didn't make sense. Besides, he hadn't been Piranha since... well, since Stanford. So it had been a while.

"Sir, what brings someone like you here all the way from Virginia? Was it something I did?" He asked, trying to sound as casual as possible, despite the fact he wanted to scream and run away.

"Hmm... So we are getting straight to the point." Michael murmured observantly, his focus shifting to the wristwatch Chuck wore. "Don't worry, lad. We are not here for you. Just tell me how you managed to get this to open." He put the old case from last night on the table.

"Oh! That? I don't know. My fingers brushed against it and WOOSH, it was open. Just like that." Chuck explained further, feeling slightly relieved.

_Impossible. This case was designed to withstand explosives, natural disasters and even some of the nastiest acids known to man. Only someone with genetic properties similar to that of Orion would have been... able to open this..._

_No way... Could he be...?_

Michael scratched his chin, taking a closer look at the device on Chuck's wrist. That definitely seemed like the same design he was shown in the blueprints, he noted with a small smile. Then he cast a serious gaze upon Chuck.

"Where did you find this case?"

"Oh, I think my dad put it behind the drawer before he left and, well... never returned." Chuck replied with a dejected sigh. He then raised an eyebrow out of curiosity. "Did you know my dad?"

"I do know about this piece of technology on your wrist and perhaps, that might answer the questions about your father as well."

"I don't understand. My father was a commercial scientist. He worked with IT companies out there." Chuck sharply narrowed his eyes.

"Not just IT companies. Your dad worked with a lot of people. Including us." Michael exclaimed.

"No way." Chuck stood up, his eyes widening in awe and disbelief. However his sudden movement caused him to bump into Lou who was about to put eggs and toast on the table. His eyes bulged as several images of various gymnasts and athletes performing amazing feats flashed in front of him. He felt like he was on autopilot as his body moved on its own at lightning-fast speed – he picked up the plate using one hand, changed direction in short order by performing a backflip, then used it to save the eggs and toast. Effortlessly so, judging by the expression on Lou's face.

"Oh my! Chuck! How did you do that?"

Chuck had no idea whatsoever. Not even Devon would have been able to catch a plate like that and he was called Awesome for a reason. _Why do I get the feeling I am full of surprises?_

Michael, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He approached Chuck and put his hand on his shoulder, then gestured towards the mysterious case.

"Tell me, Chuck. Did you notice anything unusual or odd ever since you opened this case?"

"Well..." Chuck scratched his head, taking a moment to ponder. "You guys might want to sit down because this may take a while to elaborate."

**...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxxx...**


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi. My name is Charles Irving Bartowski. I am kind of really special. I have a secret, one that is different from the usual fare. I am strong, very strong at that._

_Cliche, maybe. But I need to get some stuff off my chest._

_In comic books and the new craze in anime, protagonists start off in pretty normal ways. They have humble beginnings. Kind, honest and more often than not, they are losers in many ways. People who start off with mundane jobs, not much going on with their lives... I can relate to a certain part of it. I definitely do. Though I must say, things tend to be really complicated in real life._

_Long story short: My dad Stephen used to be a super genius, sort of like Q from the James Bond films. He was working on complex principles of Organic Computing and subliminal memory retention with a lot of help from Doctor Hartley Winterbottom, a scientist from the National Science Foundation who was also a well known expert in the emerging field of neural engineering and a brain surgeon. I don't know how they managed to pull it off but from what I managed to figure out these past two years, they must have found a way to make the human brain function like a computer using encoded images and audio specifically crafted using the studies of complex brain motor cortex signals. Unfortunately, Hartley Winterbottom died in an accident (that's stated in official reports, dunno whether it's true or not) and my dad... well, he just disappeared off the face of the earth. That's all I've managed to learn about him so far._

_Two years ago, I used to fix computers for Buy More. Not anymore. Now I have one in my head, built by Hartley and my dad, which they were supposed to turn over to the government... but they didn't. That decision changed my life in many ways. Mind you, I am no Mitchell Hundred._

_If you are asking me to explain scientifically – there's a portion of my brain labelled the __motor cortex__, which is the region of the cerebral cortex involved in the planning, control, and execution of voluntary movements. This portion is now 'wired' with a number of highly sophisticated algorithms, granting me various skills and abilities__; like performing__ kung fu, speaking and understanding languages I've never heard of (let alone spoken), deactivating and disposing of bombs, and even doing surgery. They happen in the form of temporary body reflexes which are not only random but also difficult to control. Still, I can do some pretty crazy things – things people couldn't do without years of training. Which makes me really excited and scared at the same __time. I__ am all for kung fu but surgery... nah. That's something only a doctor should do. I don't have the patience to... let's just say endure being elbow-deep in blood and guts like they do. There is a reason I chose engineering over medical studies despite being placed first in Biology in my high school. So kudos to Ellie and Awesome. In a way they are super too. It sucks that I can't tell them the whole truth but I haven't really lied to them either. As far as my sister is concerned I am currently working for__ the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency a__s an Information Assurance Engineer who also does analyst work at times. Which is something I really do when I am not busy busting my ass on the training grounds._

_Anyways, after opening that damned case that fateful day, I found myself recruited by the NGA director. The agency pulled some strings to get my degree back (after I passed a very thorough polygraph) with a very public official apology issued by the same provost who kicked me out before I could even say, "Bryce, don't sleep with my ex-fiancée". I am still not okay with what happened in Stanford but now that I have regained some of my honor, I may find it in myself to go and return that book some day._

_I work in NGA campus east alongside other 8500 employees, which includes government civilians (like me), military staff and contractors. Needless to say it's a pretty huge place to work in – it's the third largest federal facility in the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Area (2.77 million square feet) after the Pentagon (6.5 million square feet) and the Ronald Reagan Building (3.2 million square feet)._

_An average month in the NGA's employ goes like this – during the first half, I work with people in GEOINT and learn from the so-called Cyber Security Professionals about solving problems, testing approaches and researching solutions. At the same time, I try my level best not to show I already know 70% of the things they are trying to teach me. The other half is divided between finishing my 37-week Federal Agent training program (it's 20 weeks for regular recruits, but I needed 17 weeks to get to the usual starting point), improving my mastery over the 'computer' and helping a few handpicked scientists understand the thing inside my head. That sorta makes me feel like a guinea pig but these tests also make sure that I don't develop dementia or any other mental disorders from using my so-called skills._

_So this is it. I have brought you all up to date about everything._

_..._xxxxx...xxxxxx...

Tap... tap... tap...

Chuck kept bouncing his pencil on the table for the umpteenth time, drawing ire from his colleagues. He paid them no heed though. Over the past four hours his eyes were glued to the computer screen in front of him, showing various images of Chinese personnel entering and leaving a hotel in New York. He scribbled a few things in his notebook. On the surface it appeared to be a business exhibition, with corporate giants such as Google and Microsoft involved. But something felt wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

He ran background checks back and forth with nothing to show for it. Still, the way certain people walked... they didn't seem like nerds. Not to mention the servers who walked with a disturbing amount of… _spine_, for want of a better word. It wasn't like attendants couldn't be confident but these guys seemed a bit too sharp for their own good. Furthermore, the caterers used thirteen transport containers for this function. A perusal of previous records showed that bigger functions had taken place in that venue but the company never used more than six.

The database showed a DSO facility in the outskirts, just a few miles from the hotel. It was often used by the NSA and DIA for classified purposes; the corresponding details were apparently beyond his pay grade as he couldn't access them with his passcode. The facility itself was undoubtedly well protected; the driveway, on the other hand, was possibly cause for concern. A police officer working in that area recently complained about traffic cams not working properly and having trouble with some unusual noise while communicating with his precinct. Even with the paucity of information available to him, Chuck was sure that some form of advanced surveillance tech was being utilized. However, he didn't know whose it was.

_Is there anything wrong? Or I am just imagining things?_

The brown-haired youth sighed in frustration. Finally, he noticed something... or rather, someone who made him stop his incessant tapping. That happened to his boss, Richard Stone. One of the senior executives in GEOINT. Once he spotted his boss, Chuck immediately jumped to his feet and dashed towards the middle-aged man before he could pass him by.

"Richard." Chuck began only for his boss to interrupt him midway, flaring his nostrils.

"For the last time, Mr Bartowski, it's either Mr Stone or Mr Richard. Not just Richard. If you feel so obliged, I can make the chief work too." He spoke a mile a minute.

"Fine." Chuck shrugged the comment off. "I have something to discuss about a report. One that involves the event in Hotel Avenue Park."

"You know how this works, Bartowski. You send your findings to headquarters in an email and if they think it's important enough for me to look at, then I will. I am your boss, after all. Not the other way round, right?" Richard said with a condescending smile. "Now, my computer has crashed for the third time today and those tech support guys don't know a damn thing. Why don't you be a nice employee and see what's wrong with it?"

Chuck took a long breath, trying to maintain a neutral look on his face and keep a lid on his skills. It wouldn't do to punch the jerk in the face (or anywhere else), regardless of the transient satisfaction it would bring.

"I will see what can I do." He calmly retorted.

Richard initially made to leave but froze in the doorway to deliver Chuck a piece of advice. "Just try to be careful. This place isn't like the shitty retail store you used to work at so your usual bullshitting may not work."

Chuck grit his teeth in frustration and annoyance before returning to his desk. There were all these stupid rules and whispers from his fellow techies didn't help him with his anger issues.

"Just got the job because he's chummy with the Admiral..."

"Self-entitled prick... Thinks he runs this place..."

"Got a work in progress in our hands..."

"Chuck. Hey, Chuck." Chuck shook himself out of his funk and quickly turned his attention from the useless chatter around him to the familiar sight of a friendly Indian guy sitting next to him. It was none other than Manoosh Deepak, a brilliant analyst and software genius, recruited from MIT in his last year. They took their analyst and cyber training together so more often than not, they were placed in the same workspace.

"Don't worry about those dunderheads, buddy." He replied with a smile, exchanging a fist bump with Chuck. "They feel threatened by people like us. That's all. Some guy half their age with more talent in his pinky, then they have in their entire body... Not everyone can stomach this fact easily."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Chuck laughed heartily. He put his findings inside an attachment and emailed the Admiral like he was officially supposed to.

"You're welcome, Charles. So, wanna go to this new club?" Deepak asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not really. I mean, I have other things to do, you know."

"Dude, I'm trying to get you out and you're saying you'd rather read some damned books on Neural Engineering and the human brain. Seriously Charles, what gives?"

_I have a computer in my head and I am trying to understand how it works._

"I'm really glad you are so concerned with my lack of social life rather than my pursuit of knowledge..." Chuck cocked his head.

"Dude, I am trying to get us noticed out there in the world." Deepak stated with a frown. He began to type on his computer, albeit a bit slower than usual as he was still focused on Chuck. "We geniuses gotta live our lives to the full. Our reputations are at stake here."

"Geez! Fine, let's do this." Chuck's shoulders slumped in defeat; he knew all too well how stubborn his friend could be.

...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxx...

Located near Dupont Circle, The Heist was the sort of club people like Bryce and Cole used to go to. Only the most fortunate could get in – like those in the employ of certain government agencies, as Deepak claimed. Chuck stretched his arms with a yawn; even standing next to the building, he could hear the music thumping to a frantic beat. At least Deepak had dressed out for the evening (like most others looking to get in); Chuck, on the other hand, stuck with his work getup and felt completely out of place.

"This is the best nightclub in DC and they play the best dash music. We are going to have drinks and have fun." Deepak began with an excited grin.

"Yeah, yeah... I heard you the first time but let me remind you – none of us have Bond or Bourne in our last name and girls don't dig nerds." Chuck rolled his eyes in irritation. He was damn sure Morgan and this guy would be fast friends the moment he introduced them to each other. No doubt about that.

"First things first – look at yourself in the mirror. You're too big to even remotely resemble a nerd." Deepak sighed in annoyance but gave him an easy smile as both of them walked towards the door. "Besides, those Bond guys you're talking about have no lives. They would kill to have the sort of freedom we enjoy."

"What do you mean by that?" Chuck asked out of curiosity.

"We are practically _Agents _but not _Props. _I mean proper intelligence. Once you go down that route, the government basically owns you for life." Deepak explained, adding with a confident smirk, "You and me, we can get out whenever we want. Build a software company, form a band, go to our families for birthdays and thanksgivings... anything we want to do. We have that freedom. They don't."

Chuck briefly glanced at the red neon sign. He had spent the last two years undoing the mess his life turned into after the Stanford fiasco and did his hardest to impress his NGA superiors. Especially Admiral Kernan, who brought him into the fold in the first place. Still, Deepak's little speech got him thinking a bit.

_The Admiral never told me I was government property and never treated me as such... but with the computer in my head and being my father's son..._

Then the words his best friend Morgan told him before he left for Washington came to mind.

_Enjoy life! We are too young to stay mopey all the time._

Chuck smiled, wondering if that was what he had in mind all along. Both friends nodded at each other and took out their special IDs for the bouncer (a body builder in his spare time, no doubt) to examine. He took a quick look and threw them a fearful glance while stamping 'legal' on their hands.

He paid their cover charges and both of them went inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**Trip down the memory lane: Part 1: Past and the prologue**

_Hi. My real name is not important and if I told you... I would have to kill you. It sucks I know, but that's company policy. Can't do much about that. Oath on my part, courtesy on theirs. For your own safety and my convenience, you should refer to me by my current legal name, Sarah Walker._

_I am a spy and former conwoman. During my high school days I joined the CIA to save my father from the clutches of the law and the myriad enemies he made in his brief career as a white-collar thief... or to be honest, our career since I was his accomplice for numerous cons._

_After my father was arrested, I've never cried because of a person. Life taught me that when two predators meet, there isn't anyone who doesn't fear. Everyone is afraid. However, it is the one who shows fear first that will lose their life. Therefore, if someone is coming after you… you attack them first before they can discover your weaknesses. That is how you survive in the animal kingdom. That's why I never hope for anything from another person. The things I hate the most in this world… are a human's __understanding and attention. Because that makes you vulnerable and susceptible to manipulation. From the time I was left alone until now… I never expected anything from anyone. Still don't. So I am okay. Whether someone misunderstands or understands me… it doesn't matter to me at all. I am like that._

_My time is interwoven with the past. Everyday I struggle… and try to move on. But on days like these, inevitably and in a matter of moments… I go back… to that time again._

_My time is stuck in the past. That's why there is no tomorrow for me._

_The time when I met him._

_...xxxx...xxxxx...xxxxxx..._

The door to Redwood Bar and Grill swung wide open. A beautiful blonde dressed in a blue hoodie, dark skinny jeans and converses dashed in. Most of her face remained hidden beneath a scarf. She immediately braced herself as she stepped in, holding her breath as her instincts were right on the money. Her mother had escaped from rehab. For the twenty-seventh time this year.

Sarah nodded in greeting to Arthur Folley, the bar's owner and one-time ally of her father. A former conman himself, he – unlike her father – knew when to quit and was smart enough to not get his family involved in the 'business', which she respected. Nowadays, he was happy to make an honest living.

"Your mom has been out for the last few hours and I didn't know who else to call." Arthur remarked in an apologetic tone as he motioned towards the unconscious middle-aged woman. Emma's head was buried in her arms and she looked a total mess. "Some guys were about to call the cops but I stopped them. Didn't want your _company_ to learn about her."

"Thanks Arthur." Sarah nodded in gratitude. She leaned on the table and put a hand on the woman's back. "Hey, Emma. Wake up!"

After a few pats, the woman began to stir awake and stared at her. Even in the midst of her gradual awakening, she recognized her daughter's eyes right away.

"Wha... Sam, why... are you here?" Emma asked.

"You ran away from rehab. Again." Sarah shook her head with a sigh, as she wrapped her arm around her mother and helped her out of her seat.

"I... don't... remember."

"Yeah, I know." Sarah said, "Let's get you home and cleaned up before we talk."

"I... am sorry." Tears welled up in Emma's eyes. "I... know I failed you... If I had gotten my shit together then... Jack..."

"Mo... Emma, please." Sarah bit her lip, barely holding back her own tears. "Don't start. Not now."

"Just don't do this. Not for him. If you agree to this... you will cry forever." Emma choked with emotions.

"It's a price I would happily pay for my father. After all, he took care of me while you were busy with sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll." Sarah's expressions hardened as she led her towards her car. She searched for the car keys, found them in Emma's purse, then unlocked the door.

"Why? Why... can't we just run away? You still have a lot of time ahead of you. I know you don't want this life. I promise... I will get sober. Just give me a..." Emma pleaded once more before she fell unconscious on the passenger seat.

"It's too late, Mom. Even if I wanted to run, destiny has already begun." Sarah whispered softly as she drove off. She looked at her mother only once or twice throughout the drive. For the most part, her eyes were fixated on the road, with occasional glances at the city around her.

_This is my life and it's pretty obvious I haven't exactly led a charming life._

_All I ever wanted to have was a normal childhood. Instead, I got a drugged-up mother who didn't do anything for me except to send me away with my father, a conman who taught me nothing except to lie to and steal from people._

_And yet, despite my issues with them, I can't abandon my parents._

_I hate that I can't bring myself to hate them and perhaps I won't be able to pull this off in the future either. They are the only connection I have with reality. I need them and I still love them._

_I will do anything to keep them safe._

_Anything._

_...xxxxxx...xxxxxx..._

Chuck Bartowski nearly passed out on the rough cotton in his dorm room, which was somewhat similar to his Stanford residence. A messy, white-walled, two-bed lodging... not something he expected when he accepted this one-month internship in Harvard. A number of boxes – both opened and unopened – were scattered across the room. Some belonged to him; some to Cole Barker, his mysterious roommate. The young Bartowski didn't know what to make of the Englishman who claimed to be an exchange student from Oxford University, having spent most of his day out working at the nearby Large Mart outlet. He seemed reasonably friendly and compassionate, but after the whole incident with Larkin, Chuck just couldn't find it in himself to befriend another ladies' man.

There was a small chance for him because many people still believed in his innocence. He had a glimmer of hope that things would work out in the end, which helped him to keep moving forward. His kind-hearted Head of the Department gave him this assignment despite the cheating allegations and a few senior faculty members actually forced the provost to launch an official investigation, delaying his potential expulsion by two months.

Larkin must have spent a while planning this and considered every possibility. That's why no matter how much Chuck's friends tried to help they couldn't find a single thing which could point towards his innocence.

Such was the potential fallout that he was even having nightmares about the whole debacle. This assignment could very well be his last. The last HOORAH of a bright and promising student in a prestigious institute before they forever branded him a cheater.

On the plus side, Chuck had some peace and quiet. Sure, he'd clocked in after midnight (earning his beer money), completely exhausted and feeling a bit down from both work and the nasty break up with Jill, but he could finally get some good night's sleep.

Or at least, that was the plan.

The door to his room slammed open and the first thing he noticed was a girl, straddling his roommate and making out with him quite passionately.

The entwined twenty year-olds fell back onto Cole's bed, then the Englishman took charge as his long, messy brown hair flattened against the unmade mattress. Chuck froze, unable to think. This never happened to him at Stanford. What the hell was he supposed to do? Awkwardly, he looked away from the girl, focusing on the wall instead.

Just as Cole began to reach under her shirt, the girl took notice of Chuck and pulled away mid-French kiss. Cole flinched in annoyance.

"What?"

"Uh…" The girl awkwardly pointed towards Chuck, who looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. "Roommate."

Cole turned to look at Chuck. An odd mix of pleasure and embarrassment lit up in his eyes. "Oh hey, Charles. I thought you were going to pull an all-nighter."

"It's Thursday. I have to work with faculty stuff on that router. It's why I was sent here from Stanford to start with." Chuck deadpanned, now looking at Cole.

"Well…" Cole sat up, causing his lady-friend to stand up, "I definitely forgot to take that into consideration. Umm... so do you... want me... us to go?"

"No." Chuck stood up. What the hell was he doing? "I was just thinking I could use some fresh air." No, he wasn't. Why was he saying this?

"You sure?"

"Absolutely." Not. No way. God, this couldn't get worse. Damn! Sometimes, he took the nice guy status quo too far. He really needed to learn how to say _no_.

"Well, thanks, mate. I really owe you one for this."

Chuck grabbed his backpack, then filled it a few books and his pillow before leaving the room. He resisted the urge to slam the door shut on his way out.

_Fresh air. Fan-fucking-tastic! Where am I going to sleep now, at nearly two in the morning? In a tree? My last name is Bartowski, not Parker._

Closing his eyes, he took a long breath. A big light bulb went off in his head as a certain quote returned to his memory.

_Widener Library. Open 24 hours for the hardworking students of Harvard University to aid them in achieving excellence in their studies._

...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

Sarah walked dazedly down Harvard's campus, ignoring the uncomfortable glances of the security guards and drunken students she passed by. She should have just gone back to her apartment but after her mother's sudden 'visit' she felt really disturbed from deep inside and wanted to occupy herself with some work.

_Perhaps finishing that project on economics might put my mind at ease._

The blonde shrugged for a moment before having a mild stare down with the only person in sight – a grumpy old librarian who obviously hated his job. She waved him hello but it seemed that the old man mastered the art of sleeping with his eyes open. Wonderful to know Harvard always hired the best and most efficient in the business.

The walk inside was enough to make her feel tired. There were three separate floors; each one half the size of a football field. Tens of thousands of books were sorted and shelved. Now all she needed to do was find the book on _Investment Project Design_ written by Gary Becker.

_I remember where I found it last time._

She immediately headed for the basement floor. She tried opening the door to it, only to discover it was locked. Sarah let out a sigh. This meant that she needed to find the book the hard way, by exploring the library. Eventually, after searching through countless shelves, she found herself on the top floor, near the back of the library. As she passed by a particular shelf, her feet came up against something slippery and she fell over.

Sarah quickly bounced back up, blinking in confusion as she looked down at the floor. The offending object was a sleeping bag, hidden extremely carefully. She gulped as the bag slowly opened, exposing a guy around her age, with slightly messy hair and brown eyes.

"Oh my dog... I mean God! Sorry... I really thought the librarian caught me." He stammered with a goofy smile, before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and sitting up. "Chuck is me... Uh, my name is Charles Irving Bartowski and I am from... Stanford. Not that you need to know... that... I mean my middle name isn't..." Chuck let out a sigh, rubbing the the back of his head in embarrassment.

He looked at the pretty blonde who gave him a blank look for a moment before offering her hand, a small smile appearing on her face.

"It's alright. You are probably just tired. My name is Sarah."

"Yeah, not having a great day. I just got back from a late shift and I couldn't sleep in my assigned dorm because my roommate is getting funky with someone."

"No way!"

"I'm serious!"

Unable to restrain her amusement any longer, she burst out in a fit of giggles.

...xxxxx...xxxxx...xxxxxxx...

_Fumbling, awkward and walking with a perpetual slouch, he was quite possibly the most unnoticeable individual on the entire campus. Even when in a crowd, he never quite seemed to be part of it._

_But he had the kindest eyes I have ever seen._

_...xxxxx...xxxxx..._


	5. Chapter 5

_Hi. I am Chuck Bartowski and I often wonder what category I belong to._

_I always thought the whole group thing – popular kids in one corner, nerds in another, huge guys with biceps talking about football in the hallways, etc – only existed in some crappy Disney Channel musical or low-budget cheesy movies made for... ahem... people enjoying sweet sixteen._

_What kind of class do I belong to? What do you think?_

_Here, I will give you some time to think it over._

_I am pretty sure those of you who are familiar with my story so far have already decided._

_The answer is that you are wrong._

_I do not belong in _any_ group. Shocked? I guess you don't know me at all. The problem I always faced was that my book smarts (and the huge comic book collection I have in my closet) led many people to tag me as a 'nerd' or 'geek'._

_(Ironically, most other nerds (by a similar definition) that I met never really saw me as one. They probably feel I talk too much and have this pretty face thing going on. And I get along with people too much for their taste, so I don't seem like an outcast to them. I dunno. I always found their logic quite weird.)_

_So, what's wrong with being labeled a nerd, you ask? I guess the main issue is that most people feel obliged to be less than pleasant to me. Hell, some see it as a public service. And there are some, like my sister, who think I shouldn't even leave my own room without someone protecting my back. (You should have seen her that one time in high school when she punched a cheerleader who only dated me because she needed help with homework. If she didn't choose to be a doctor, damn sure she would have become a boxing champion someday.) Anyway, I don't like to be seen as a punching bag or a fragile individual who can't take care of himself._

_So who am I, actually?_

_The last words my mom told me before she left... well, she didn't speak. That's probably why I didn't talk when I was young. I listen well, right? I felt abandoned. Since then, I believed that if I didn't smile, if I asked someone something they didn't like, that people would grow tired of me. That they would abandon me. That if I wasn't considerate towards them, they would end up resenting me. That if I didn't go to great lengths to make them happy, they would deem me not worth their time. That's why I always try so hard while connecting with people._

_I am just a selfish guy who's afraid of being left behind by this happy world. If I ever met the right woman, the one for me, my soulmate... I'd do anything in this world for her._

_...xxxxxx...xxxxx...xxxxxx..._

"And yeah. My mom left after I broke that bracelet all those years ago. A couple of months later, my dad did the same thing after I walked into his workplace when he clearly told me not to." Chuck finished sullenly. "I am an adult after all. What does it matter if my parents left me and my sister? I'm not going to see them if they decide to suddenly pop up someday."

They spent hours just talking, sitting opposite each other. While Sarah occasionally contributed to the conversation, Chuck was the one who did most of the talking. In that time, the former conwoman learned much about the shy young man from Stanford. And she felt his story was definitely a sad one. Despite his misgivings, Jack never intentionally left her behind like Chuck's father did. She was quite grateful for that... not that she'd ever admit it. Especially to him. Even when he was arrested, he didn't leave without any contingency plans. Perhaps, if Graham hadn't approached her on that fateful day, she might have settled down and enjoyed a quiet peaceful life with a large sum of money that he bequeathed to her. While both of Chuck's parents abandoned him and his then 16 year-old sister, meaning she had to look after the both of them. She must have been one hell of a woman to pull that off. If this Ellie was someone like Emma, well... Chuck would have ended up a criminal and / or homeless, and he certainly wouldn't have made it to Stanford. As if all that wasn't enough, his long-time girlfriend / fiancée broke off their engagement and slept with his supposed best friend. The same individual who leveled those accusations of cheating against him, no less.

Sarah glanced at him for a moment before asking, "Did you... I mean... really steal those tests?"

Chuck felt a bit annoyed at the question but quickly regained his composure. If he lost his cool upon hearing that question from a mere student, how could he defend his integrity in front of the committee at his hearing?

"That night, I was working with my department head on a cybersecurity project. It was 11 o'clock when I returned to my room... only to confronted by my roommate, saying he found the papers under my bed and called the administration. I have never been accused of cheating before. Whether you believe me or not is up to you."

"I do." Sarah responded with a warm smile. She noticed something about him; a kindness, an innate goodness which appealed to her.

Chuck smiled back before looking away in embarrassment. "Geez, I can't believe I just dumped all that baggage on you. I just met you and... and you must have your own issues to deal with..."

"You are sweet, you know that?" She said, finally looking at him. "I wish there were more guys like you instead of those trying out for Jersey Shore."

Chuck felt a surge of confidence within himself, then looked up and finally said to Sarah, "I do hope you get what you want in life. You are amazingly beautiful..." He rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin but somehow managed to carry on, "...smart, and sensible. Thanks for talking to me. I'm... I'm... really happy to get to know you."

"Chuck, why don't you come by my apartment this evening?" Sarah nodded, smiling lightly at him.

"Y-your house? You... mean the place where you're staying?" Chuck's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. "But... aren't we, like, complete strangers?"

"Who just spent six hours talking to each other in the middle of the night." Sarah pointed out the obvious, playfully nudging him in the shoulders.

"Six _hours_?!" Chuck's head immediately jerked up. "No way!"

"Yup."

"Sure, I guess." Chuck sheepishly replied, figuring he could use the company. He didn't really know anyone here except Cole and his girlfriend Karen... Carrie... whatever her name was.

"Great." She began walking away and waved goodbye. "Meet me outside the library entrance at 8 o'clock sharp. See you then, Chuck."

Chuck waved goodbye in return and watched her vanish down the huge corridor. Letting out a hearty laugh, he shook his head and proceeded to wrap things up. In a couple of hours he had to make a presentation with Prof Rao's team and he barely slept through the night. He really hoped he would be able to pull it off without running out of fuel.

...xxxxx...xxxx...

"You were talking to Bartowski!"

"Hello to you too, Kristen. Why yes, I am having a great day. How about you?" Sarah flared her nostrils in frustration and annoyance.

Standing in front of her desk and bouncing on the balls of her feet was a Chinese-Dutch girl around her age. Beautiful, sort of a gossip queen, nosy but without the nasty attitude her former classmates from high school shared. And over the past three years, she proved to be quite the ally by helping her glide through various college societies. That didn't mean her nosy attitude didn't bother her, though.

"Oh my God, no. Why would you invite him to your apartment?" Kristen gasped as she sat at one of the tables in the cafeteria.

Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. I felt like he could use some company." She responded before taking a sip of her coffee. "Stop making a big deal of it. It's not like he'll try anything."

"He's a nerd." Kristen added with a frown. "They are nice to screw with but not someone girls like you bring on a date."

Sarah's eyebrows twitched in annoyance. She really hated being told what (not) to do by anyone, be it her own father, the CIA director or a bunch of bumbling classmates who had no idea about the harsh realities of this world.

"It's not a date."

"My cousin Julie is working on the same project as Bartowski. Trust me when I say this guy is going through hell right now. He's like a kicked puppy." Kristen continued while munching on her chips.

"He doesn't have parents." Sarah responded with a sigh.

"What do you mean by that?" Kristen asked, dumbfounded.

"His sister practically raised him on her own. His parents left both of them when he was in his teens and just last month, the love of his life walked out on him at the first sign of trouble. I am just being nice to the poor guy. He obviously needs a break from all the crap he is going through." Sarah remarked with an edge to her tone, glaring daggers at Kristen who was busy swallowing the food in her mouth.

"You are not the kind of girl who dates guys like him. People like my cousin, they're the ones who have a thing for those guys." Kristen warned cautiously.

Much to the disgust of her friend, Sarah commented with a fond smile.

"I guess he is a little cute."

...xxxx...xxxxxx...

"I knew you had it in you, mate. You know how to use protection, right?"

"Cole, I may not seem like a ladies' guy but I had this hot girlfriend back at Stanford. Besides, she never told me this was a date or anything like that. We might just end up watching a movie or grab a beer. Stuff like that."

"Let me tell you something, Charles. I know you're still not over this Jill chick but she isn't coming back, right? Just because someone broke your heart doesn't mean you should shut yourself off forever. You have to try, because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived. Stay open. Who knows? Lightning could strike."

"Sharp as ever, Barker. A _Meet Joe Black_ quote? Color me impressed."

"I aim to please, Charles. Now get the hell out of here before I throw you out the window. I have a date, for crying out loud."

...xxxxx...xxxxx...xxxxx...

Chuck walked up behind Sarah as she led him towards a modest home located several blocks from the campus.

"You live on your own?" Chuck asked out of curiosity.

"What can I say? I prefer living alone and I can afford to." Sarah responded casually as they slipped inside her bedroom. She turned to him with a warm smile. "I will be in the bathroom so make yourself comfortable."

Chuck nodded awkwardly. "Okay." Her room looked surprisingly empty and it seemed like the entire place had been repainted just a few weeks ago. From what he could tell, the place must let in a lot of natural light. There was some heavy exercise equipment lying around; a bunch of dumbbells, a huge punching bag and a couple of gloves. In short, this girl was no damsel in distress and was capable of kicking ass. He sat at the end of her bed and turned the TV on. He took a long breath in an attempt to quell the awkwardness and nervousness building inside of him.

_Calm down, Chuck._

Sarah emerged from the bathroom, having applied a visibly brighter shade of lipstick, it seemed. She sat beside him on the bed and asked, "So, are you watching something?"

"Just Doctor Who." Chuck gulped nervously as he began to switch channels. "It was the first thing to pop up when I turned the TV on."

"Don't worry about it." Sarah smiled gently as she scooted a bit closer. "Was it anything good?"

Chuck shrugged. "Nah, I don't like the current Doctor. He's too much of a jerk." He quietly gazed across the room. "Your place... it's quite good."

"Not much use for me. I got selected for an special internship in this very big business conglomerate so I will be leaving for Sweden next weekend." Sarah noted, "You are a nice guy, Chuck."

"I suppose." Chuck responded weakly.

Sarah continued further, "You are. There is something about you. An innate goodness that I like." She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I like you, Chuck. You are different from everyone else."

Chuck gazed into her fiery blue eyes for a moment and responded in kind. She put her hand on his shirt and began to pull him towards her, only for him to stop her midway.

"I c-can't."

Sarah frowned, disappointment and anger flaring in her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"You're going through some pain and grief. I can see it in your eyes." Chuck remarked in a firm tone, taking hold of her hands. "Trust me, Sarah. The quickest way out never works. I was just like that before my professor gave me this project and I will tell you what he told me. Everyone has their moments, but it all passes. If you just endure it a little, it will pass. I don't want you to look back on this day and remember me as some desperate guy who took advantage when you were feeling vulnerable." He shrugged. "How about we just talk?"

Sarah looked away in embarrassment and confusion, unsure about what to do. "I am not good at... I'm sorry. I can't."

_What the...? She's on pins and needles all of a sudden. Did I say something I wasn't supposed to?_

"Sarah, please relax. You don't have to tell me anything about yourself in particular or the problems you are dealing if you don't feel comfortable doing it." Chuck said quietly with a smile. "I don't know what I am doing or what I am supposed to... but it would be nice if we could talk with one another naturally and enjoy each other's company... Like friends?" He trailed, looking away shyly before extending his hand towards her.

"You want to go from a kiss to a handshake?"

Sarah laughed a bit, her voice filled with sarcasm and amusement but she shook his hand anyway. When she did, the feeling that all would be okay spread from her hand and through her entire body. It was quite amazing and terrifying. She never knew such a handshake existed.

"What can I say? We Bartowskis tend to be quite old fashioned about a number of things."

"Well then, what would you like to drink?"

...xxxxx...xxxxx...

**There was a shameless Healer reference in last chapter, thought someone would get it at a certain point XD**


	6. Chapter 6

Senior Security Officer Frank Nelson wished they could move faster. Normally, a delivery job like this was no more than a simple thirty-minute drive and never drew any ire from their enemies. After all, his employers were the freaking NSA; people usually didn't bother taking the fight to them. And to the best of his knowledge, his current stomping grounds were quite peaceful. Even the overall crime rate was low and the agency deemed this route safe and secure. Which was a good thing because as a voluntarily retired Marine, he was no longer the eager beaver he used to be, a guy who liked to shoot stuff and put his life at risk. He didn't want to deal with the heat anymore.

Frank was a big guy. He stood over six feet tall and weighed a solid 250 pounds; some of it may have turned into fat, but overall he remained in relatively good shape. His greying hair was concealed by a navy cap. Since he was a good listener, he always maintained a harmonious relationship with the chain of command – the benefit of such being that he ended up in positions of respect or authority.

His colleague, Roger Williams, was a loyal and solid partner, as well as being somewhat taciturn. It was the reason Frank liked working with him. What Roger lacked in terms of raw knowledge, he made up for with his ability to gather information from law enforcement contacts. He always kept his ears firmly attached to the ground.

"So one of those glorified courier jobs once again?" Roger raised an eyebrow, pointing out the folded blueprints lying on the backseat. "Do you know what's inside that?"

"Next-gen tank plans. Plastic and fibre. Probably one of the biggest innovations this decade. We got it from GDLS a few days ago." Frank explained, then took note of the message on an electronic sign board. "Bridge closed?"

"Huh? That doesn't make sense. I am pretty sure we have memorized our whole routine by now. Isn't this... our 300th delivery?" Roger frowned as he took a sharp turn. He turned the steering wheel around to reach the other nearest path, only for something to slam into it from behind, causing the automotive to lose balance. Both officers took a long breath and looked in the rear view mirror. It was a black and yellow truck with _Iris Food and Beverages_ engraved on the top.

"Darn it! We are under attack!" Frank yelled as he took out his side arm. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, but the sounds of squealing tires made him realize the truck had them pinned against a wall.

"What do we do now, chief?" Roger panicked, brandishing his own pistol.

"Nothing. The glass is bulletproof. The agency suburban is made from zinc-galvanized steel." Frank tried to assure his colleague as his being a former Marine meant he was no stranger to such situations. Though droplets of sweat started to form on his forehead as several cars came out of nowhere, trapping them in a corner.

A scantily-clad Chinese woman jumped out from the driver seat of the truck with a vicious smile on her face, followed by several heavily-armed Asian men in uniform.

"Base, we are under attack. I REPEAT – WE ARE UNDER ATTACK." Roger yelled into his communicator and received nothing but static in return.

"It's no use. They are jamming the signal." Frank smacked his fists against the windshield in frustration.

Suddenly, an extremely painful sound pierced their ears - as if someone was drilling the ground beneath their feet. Before they could figure out what was going on, a thick green mist started to permeate the suburban, causing them to start coughing and gagging.

And just like that, the darkness took them. Darkness they never woke up from.

...xxxxx...xxxxx...

It was quite unusual for Chuck.

The air was filled with alcohol, smoke and perfume. It felt like all of his senses were being assaulted. For the last two years he had been completely focused on trying to prove he was more than just the offspring of Stephen Bartowski. Both his physical and mental capabilities had been tested far beyond their limits as he went through his ordeals. Truthfully, he had been working like there was no tomorrow because he wanted to put the failures of his past as far behind him as he could. He had an inkling in his mind that with the _technology_ stuck inside his head, he would have to deal with more than just a nasty, self-absorbed superior. He was aware there was no way of controlling what fate had in store for him, which was why he agreed to his friend's wild proposition.

Loud, fast-paced music thundered from everywhere, making it near-impossible to hear anything else. The place was completely packed with men and women who were barely able to move past each other. Along with the lights (fluctuating with the beat) which happened to be the main source of illumination in the otherwise darkened club, he saw a massive screen – most probably thirty feet wide – hanging above the heavily crowded dance floor, and it also flashed from time to time.

"So, where were we? We don't know any real secrets... stuff the government doesn't want others to know. But once you get into that sort of thing... well that's when they own you Charles, and they own you for life." Deepak replied as he ordered a Tequila at the bar while Chuck decided to stick with a fruity drink called Mai Tai (which came with an umbrella), something Awesome suggested to him over the phone.

"The only person who cannot be owned by anyone is one who always keeps his options open." Chuck laughed heartily as they fist-bumped each other. Deepak suddenly looked over his right shoulder and was quite surprised to see a pretty brown-haired, hazel-eyed woman standing near the counter, waiting for her drink. She was wearing an exotic zebra-striped top and mini skirt but the stern academic glasses she donned were a big giveaway. She was the type he was looking for.

"Dude. Crush alert, 6 o'clock." Deepak whispered in his ears. Chuck initially blinked in confusion, then turned to see the woman in question, who herself had turned around so he could only see her back. A very beautiful back, in his opinion. That kind of sight was one he was used to during his relationship with Jill.

"Let me show you how this works, Charles." Deepak declared with a smug grin, taking out his cover badge. He concealed it in a way that allowed someone to peek and read the initials on it if they were standing. "Chicks dig spies."

_"_This is never going to work." Chuck rolled his eyes in mild annoyance.

"The spoils of victory don't come to those who give up easily, my friend!" He added with a dramatic flair, patting him on the shoulders.

"I wish you luck, my friend. You're gonna need it." Chuck sweatdropped, ready to see the conclusion of his friend's little adventure. Outrageous ideas like that never worked for Morgan and he doubted it would work for Deepak either. They slid slowly through the moving crowd toward their destination. As soon as they got within earshot, the dark-haired woman actually turned towards them with a twinkle of excitement in her eyes.

"Hey..." She began first, her eyes glued to Deepak's ID. What she could see of it, anyway.

"Hey there. I am Romeo Walter and this is my friend, Charles Carmichael." Deepak extended his hand with a confident smile which she shook rather enthusiastically, even extending the same courtesy to Chuck. She stared at both of them in awe and adornment.

"I am Summer Roberts. I just saw your DIA badge. Are you guys secret agents or something?" She started talking very fast, the words spilling out of her mouth.

"Ah! I would love to tell you but then..." Deepak trailed off playfully.

"You would have to kill me or put me in a bunker." She responded in a sarcastic manner, rolling her eyes.

"I was about to say "dance with you", but if that's your thing..." Deepak smiled mischievously as the woman offered her hand which he lifted to his lips, causing her to look away shyly. Chuck stared wide-eyed at him for a moment, literally shocked to his very core.

_I can't believe that actually worked._

"Sure, why not?" She nodded with a pleasant smile. Enveloping his hands with hers, she turned to Chuck, continuing in a high-pitched tone, "Emily would go crazy over it. She's always wanted to meet a Jack Ryan type."

"I think I am fine on my own. You two go enjoy ourselves." Chuck remarked with a friendly smile. In spite of all the mental and physical changes he had been through, he still wasn't comfortable with lying in order to spend time with a pretty lady.

"Are you sure about that Charles? All work and no play makes Chuck a dull Agent." Deepak replied in a casual tone. "Sorry, Summer. Charles has been going through hard times. He had to... kill a rogue agent today. He was sort of his best friend. They went through the academy together." He added in a foreboding tone.

"I... can't believe it. Y-you k-killed your best friend?" Summer stammered a bit, visibly shaken by this supposed revelation. Chuck, on the other hand, didn't know how to react. He kinda felt bad for seeing the poor lady deceived like that, but he couldn't help but feel annoyed at how simply being debonair could invoke gullibility in others.

"I think I'll get a refill and ponder who my next target should be. My trigger fingers are getting itchy." Chuck replied with a groan and started walking towards the bar.

"He isn't going to... kill me, right?" Summer whispered nervously in Deepak's ear, her face now pale with horror.

Deepak chuckled, barely able to restrain his laughter. He wrapped his arms around her waist and spoke softly in a flirtatious tone, "Only if you are really, _really_ bad."

"I can be if you want to." She purred back.

...xxxxx...xxxxxx...

Letting out a sigh, Chuck began moving towards the bar only to be accidentally smacked in the back by an over-enthusiastic couple who were jumping wildly to the beat of dash music. The impact was enough to launch him forward, right into another person.

Time seemed to slow down as they headed for an impromptu meeting with the floor. An electric tingle flowed through Chuck's nerves as multiple images floated in front of his eyes. In short order, his body moved on its own as his hands brought the person into a hug and twisted them around, leaving him to attend the meeting by himself.

THUD!

And what a meeting it was.

He hit the ground hard enough to bounce. Even the computer in his head couldn't have prevented that outcome. Chuck groaned as pain spread from his back to his head. He let go of the other person and rubbed his head using his right hand, his eyes still tightly closed. The person above him also groaned before getting off him and standing up.

_All these amazing skills locked inside my brain and I can't even save my own ass._

"I am really sorry about that." Chuck said, still in pain and discomfort.

"It's okay. Though I must say we have a knack of running into each other in unusual situations." The other person – clearly a woman – replied in an amused tone, though her voice carried a sense of elegance and respect as well.

"I guess." Chuck replied dumbly, not really knowing how to respond to that. Still rubbing his head, he opened his eyes, looking up at the woman he accidentally crashed into. "I am... fine..." His sentence slowed down to a stop, his heart skipped a beat, his eyes widened and blood immediately rushed to his cheeks.

Her blonde hair was draped around her head and shoulders, forming some sort of golden angelic halo. She was wearing a black wool shirt that did an excellent job of displaying her curves. A flowing red skirt covered her legs in a teasing manner. She had the face of an angel. The breathtaking sight of her complete form had apparently given him time-manipulation superpowers, because the seconds he spent looking at her felt like hours. Then all of a sudden, realization hit him.

It was none other than Sarah Walker from Harvard.

Chuck had to admit, his eyes had traveled her path before. Not that he could stop himself from looking again, considering what nearly happened between them all those years ago. But that was just a rare moment of weakness on her part. He had never been _seriously _infatuated with her and never imagined both of them together. However, right now he couldn't stop himself from gazing at her with puppy dog eyes.

_Even after five long years, she still looks like a fairytale princess, a person with a face you can only find in the finest of artworks._

Recomposing himself, he gulped and attempted to articulate an intelligent reply, trying not to make himself look even more idiotic than he already did.

"It's been a long time, Sarah." He smiled admirably.

"Five years. I know. Congratulations, by the way. I read in the newspapers that you finally got your degree back." She replied with a warm smile, gently tapping him on the shoulders, then sharply narrowed her eyes as she picked up what appeared to be some sort of key card. "So you work for the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency now? That's impressive. Are you a spy or something like that?" She added with a hint of playfulness.

_Don't freak out, Chuck. Don't freak out. Pull yourself together, look presentable. You are a Federal Agent-in-training._

Quickly jumping back on his feet, Chuck straightened his jacket and resumed smiling. He tried not to stare at her too hard, otherwise it would have made him look creepy.

"Oh, I actually... got off from work a little late. I didn't even know this was _on_." Chuck grinned, his voice rushed and bearing a very uncharacteristic squeak at the end.

_Damn. What the hell is wrong with me? Every time I try to come off charming, I end up becoming an even goofier version of myself. Was I born under a bad sign?_

"I restore... computers and teach... people how to not get hacked. A teacher of sorts. Yeah, that's what I am. I teach stuff. Teach stuff to tech people. And I spend my time making weather reports and schedules for my bosses on my computer. That's what I do for a living. A not-so-special special agent." With a smile, Chuck rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

...

...

...

...

...

...

If anyone could look inside Chuck's mind at that very moment, they would see him performing seppuku with a Jedi lightsaber.

Nevertheless, in spite of what he may have thought, the blonde in front of him did indeed smile. That smile was then accompanied by a giggle as she continued in a mischievous manner.

"Are you ready?"

"For what?" Chuck asked with a stunned expression.

"It's been five long years. We have a lot to catch up on." She concluded with a fond smile.

...xxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxx...

"It doesn't take a genius to understand there was some foul play involved," said a dark-skinned old man dressed in a long black jacket, along with a suit and tie underneath.

"I agree with you, Director Graham. According to the autopsy report, one of the officers died upon being exposed to sarin, a nerve gas with many times the toxicity of cyanide. Really nasty stuff. The other officer tried to escape but he was shot dead." Senior Analyst Tom Corrigan replied as both of them continued to walk around the wreckage. The most eye-catching thing was the blood, splattered around the ground and splashed against the wall. "The truck used by the assailants had been reported stolen by caterers last week."

"A perfectly-orchestrated attack and no one managed to see it coming? This is ridiculous! They must have been planning this for weeks." Graham frowned. "Those tank designs were stolen right under our noses. Our people surely know how to make mistakes. We need to make changes. I need better people."

Tom let out a sigh, deciding not to argue with the Director. Lately, he had been extremely frustrated due to the lack of progress on a certain special project that he had no idea about and wasn't interested in knowing about. His job was already troublesome enough; he had no time to waste on other matters.

All of a sudden, he recalled something. Something important enough to catch his attention and make a note of in his personal handbook. He took it out from his overcoat and began citing the facts.

"Actually, there was an analyst; a rookie from the NGA assigned to some routine intelligence-gathering job unrelated to our mission. He predicted that something like this might take place. Despite his limited security access, he identified six different ambush points. This one was marked _most likely_." Tom explained in a serious tone.

"So you're telling me an individual from another intelligence agency – with no knowledge of this delivery whatsoever – was able to draw a conclusion our supercomputer AI and hundreds of analysts missed, even though he had no idea about the nature of our facility?" Graham asked incredulously. He was definitely surprised after hearing this.

"I think so. His security clearance wasn't high enough to know any of that."

"Interesting. So this NGA analyst... What's his name?"

"Carmichael."

...xxx...xxxxx...


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter has been slightly altered/ rewritten.**

"Thanks for the save. That athletic display of yours was quite impressive." Sarah said, amazed. Granted, she was one of the CIA's top spies and could do a lot of crazy things civilians would find ridiculous. But for someone like Chuck – a guy she remembered as the skinny and somewhat frail sort when they first met – that manoeuvre was incredible. Heck, even some of her fellow agents couldn't have done that on reflex.

Conflicting thoughts went through her mind as she took his appearance in once again. While he had kept his long unruly dark hair and unrefined fashion sense, he had clearly changed. During the time they spent at Harvard, his physical appearance left much to be desired; even so, she grew fond of him courtesy of his personality and moral strength. It was as close as she came to liking a guy back then. And now, given the transformation he had undergone since then... well, she had to admit he was really good looking.

He wore a pair of dark blue pants that accentuated his long legs and muscular thighs, alongside a wrinkled (yet form-fitting) white shirt with short sleeves, easily showing off his newfound broad shoulders and reasonably well-toned upper body. The innocence his expressive brown eyes sparkled with was replaced by a form of weariness. His toothy smile still seemed earnest and warm but his face now betrayed a worldly knowledge, which she didn't expect someone outside of her field to fully grasp.

_"_I guess... I've been working out for the past two years." Chuck scratched the back of his head with a sheepish look on his face.

_If the Admiral discovers I've been using the Intersect in the open, I'll be in huge trouble._

"Sure seems like it." With a smile Sarah held her arms to the side. Chuck stood still and blinked, seemingly unsure about what to do. After staring at him for a couple of awkward seconds, she instead placed her hands on his shoulders.

"How have you been? You look... a bit distracted."

"I am Chuck Bartowski. Distracted is my middle name." Chuck laughed a bit. Acting cool didn't come naturally to him; he had always been more comfortable with self-deprecation. After all, going out like this was more like an exercise he needed to perform in order to try and reconnect with his origins. The guy he was before things went south at Stanford. It was too bad that he actually needed to make an effort to find common ground with his past life. Things had started getting better for a while when he started dating Lou, but one nasty fight in particular, she just left for a covert mission, not even bothering to provide any closure to the beautiful relationship they once had. And ever since then, he was left to his own devices once more. Narrowing his eyes in curiosity, he continued further.

"Look at you. I never imagined Sarah Walker from Harvard would attend a party where people drink alcohol. The last time we drank together you turned the brightest shade of green a human being may ever be in their life."

"In my defense, it was you who suggested I try tequila for the first time." Sarah responded with a slightly bashful smile. In her wildest dreams, she never imagined Chuck to be the one to embarrass her... Agent Walker during a conversation like that.

"John Harvard founded the Harvard Institute – your place of study – and you rewarded him by puking on his shoes." Chuck said in a jovial tone, feeling quite proud of accomplishing what he set out to do. What Ellie and Lou would have liked him to do. Enjoying himself at a club with a maybe-friend who may or may not have forgotten about him over five long years instead of spending the rest of his day reading books or doing full body workouts.

"We have grown up a lot since those days." Sarah remarked with a rather mischievous smile, playfully nudging him on the shoulders. "You definitely have."

"Well, I met this kickass woman a few years back. Even though she was a very private person who had trouble sharing personal stuff, she showed me kindness and believed in me when no one else did. And she taught me an important life-lesson: Things aren't always what they seem. Our fears can play tricks on us, making us afraid to change course, afraid to move on... but usually hidden behind our fears are second chances waiting to be seized. Second chances at life… at glory… at family… at love. And these opportunities don't come around every day. So when they do, we have to be brave, take a chance, and grab them while we can. Unfortunately, we only spent a very short time together. Even then, when I feel like everything is hopeless and gloomy, when I falter and make a mistake, it's the thought of her which picks me up and allows me to keep going." Chuck said with a small smile, his voice filled with nostalgia and – to a degree – longing.

**Flashback (16 months ago)**

_Chuck panted as he fell on his knees with a loud thump, bringing his arms close to his chest. After taking a long breath, he charged towards the pretty brown-haired trainer with a staff in his hand._

Should I attack or defend?

_His body carried him forward before he could consciously make a decision. His reflexes weren't something he could totally control yet._

_Lou calmly and casually parried his attack with her own staff, causing both weapons to clash against the other with a mild clank. The former Nerd Herder immediately retaliated with a shift in his footwork, switching to a striking position, then lashed out with a vicious knee._

_Unfortunately, that was dodged easily as well._

_Chuck went on the defensive, quickly leaning back to avoid her retaliatory strike. He attacked the Lieutenant with an intent to break through her guard, going for her knee this time. The blow didn't connect with as much force as he wanted. He was still new to the whole _Karate Kid_ thing and he quit kung fu a lot earlier than he should have._

_Despite that, he knew enough to not expose his back during combat. That would be suicidal._

_He struck out with a roundhouse kick. The Lieutenant avoided the blow with relative ease and rewarded Chuck with a hard strike on his torso, sending the former Nerd Herder crashing to the ground in a heap._

_"Always remember to focus on the objective in a fight, Padawan. If you miss the beat for even a single moment, it could lead to your defeat." Lou stretched her arms with a yawn as she grabbed a bottle of orange juice._

_"I get your point, Lady Obi Wan." Chuck let out a groan, wincing at the bruise forming underneath his sweatshirt where the Lieutenant had smacked him with the staff. "No offense, Lou. You hit quite hard."_

_Giggling in amusement, Lou walked towards Chuck with a towel in her hand and helped him get back on his feet._

_"You always complain that I coddle you during training. I just did what you asked me to."_

_Chuck frowned, knowing Lou simply did what he asked of her. It was the only way for him to become a badass. To become a hero. To achieve greatness and be much better than that bastard Larkin ever was._

_"I had no idea it was going to be like this."_

_"Well Chuck, now you know. It if helps, I was a sixth dan in judo e__ven before joining the Marine Corps__." She smiled playfully, ruffling his unruly hair._

_Chuck sighed at hearing that. His shoulders slumped in defeat. __Soon after physical training had started, his limits became apparent. __No matter how hard he tried, he felt __the jury was still out on__ his ability to surmount the gap between where he was and where he needed to be._

_"Stop being a shithead, Bartowski." Lou reprimanded the young man. Chuck looked at her in confusion. "Moping never helps."_

_"It's hard not to. The only reason I got this job is because I have this computer in my head. Which I can't even use properly." Chuck grumbled._

_Lou sighed. She preferred the geeky, over-eager, hyper-excited version of Chuck any day and he performed exceptionally well when it came to electronics and computers. He also had quite the aptitude for identifying gaps in intelligence, evaluating information from multiple sources, monitoring trends and interpreting events related to particular countries or issues. However, he still had some trouble catching up with the Federal Agent portion of his training and he wasn't taking it well._

_"People mature and grow stronger at different rates, Chuck." Lou began in an encouraging tone, gently patting his shoulders. "Your circumstances are unique. There isn't anything you can do to change your situation. So you should focus on getting better and what you need to reach where you want to be."_

_"Easy for you to say, Lou." Chuck responded with a smile devoid of its usual warmth and humor. "Look at you. You are a kickass fighter and a highly decorated Federal Agent, respected by everyone in this agency. I am just a guy who fixed computers at the Buy More for $11 an hour. I thought I could be something more, that I could so something great with these abilities... but that just seems like a pipe dream now. Even with all these things going on for me, I will never be the guy."_

_"Will you please shut up, shithead?!" Lou reprimanded the young man harshly. She was getting __really __annoyed with Chuck's defeatist attitude. "Everyone secretly thinks they've figured out what their life is gonna be like, but what no one ever considers is that life has its own plans for you, whether you like them or not. And so you're left with a choice. You can either embrace the change and move forward, or fight it and be left behind. Besides, do you really think it's possible to learn how to fly without crashing a few times? You can't measure success or failure by comparing yourself with others. It makes you lose perspective. Makes you lose focus. When you lose focus, you get distracted from what you need in order to achieve greatness in your life."_

_Chuck nodded hesitantly. He could see where Lou was coming from. He had been comparing his life with those of Ellie and Devon... and to a lesser extent, what his life would have been like had he not been kicked out of Stanford. As should have been the case. Still, compared to where he was a year ago, he had made a lot of progress and he was getting better... at fighting... at using the Intersect... and perhaps... coming to terms with what happened at Stanford._

_Maybe the Lieutenant was telling him the truth. Still, it would take more than that to change how he viewed himself._

_"Let me be frank, Lou. I am without doubt the least suited person for these abilities." With a frown, Chuck stared at both of his arms. "Perhaps I am good with brainstorming and electronics, but that's my only saving grace. When I entered Stanford, I had this dream. Landing a six-figure job. Getting a girlfriend. Becoming successful in life, someone Ellie can be proud of. Am I ever going to get there? Will I ever have my own identity? Or am I destined to just be the son of Orion, with a supercomputer stuck inside my head?"_

_"What I can tell you for sure..." Lou said as she came closer to Chuck and placed a hand on his cheek, causing him to blush slightly, " ...is that as far as getting a girlfriend is concerned, you needn't worry."_

_"I don't understand," Chuck replied nervously, as Lou placed her other hand on his other cheek._

_"'Cause she is standing right in front of you."_

**Flashback end**

For the first time in her life, Sarah didn't know what to say or think. What Chuck said made her heart grow. Remaining blissfully unaware of the fact he wasn't exactly talking about the time they spent together at Harvard.

_Holy crap! I never knew he thought about me that way. I think I'm blushing. _She could only nod and look away from him shyly.

"Chuck, I am sorry..."

"Oh, don't be." Chuck interrupted her before she could talk further. She looked back at him with a smile. "You can never measure relationships by the passage of time, right? It would be totally unfair to do so. Whether it's for a month, a week or even a day... the depth and authenticity is what's truly important."

Sarah looked touched. "That's very astute of you," she said, clearing her throat. _I never knew Chuck would turn out to be this cool five years on._

"Don't you think I am smart?" Chuck replied jokingly. Back at Harvard, she would have given him a snarky reply filled with dry humor. She gently grabbed his hand as he gave him a different kind of response.

"I... do. It's just... people should tell you that once in a while. It's the truth." She beamed at him with a thousand-megawatt smile which literally threatened to blind him.

Chuck couldn't help but get in a bit of a fluster at her praise. Sarah was really good looking, after all. So good looking that he actually felt intimidated in her presence... he needed to get a handle on things before he got overwhelmed.

"Umm... thanks. That was one hell of a compliment. It was nice meeting you, Sarah. Anyway, I won't bother you anymore. I should probably get lost before your boyfriend suddenly pops up and kicks my teeth in for talking to you." He didn't actually know if she had a boyfriend, but with her looks she was bound to have one. Or a girlfriend, if she swung that way. Perhaps he should just disengage from the conversation while he could, lest he make himself look like an even bigger idiot. Besides, it wasn't like she thought about him; she'd have at least sent him an email otherwise. Even a postcard would have worked. On second thought, she did trust him enough to mention being in a witness protection program of sorts, which may well explain the lack of contact.

Argh! Why did everything in his life have to be so damn complicated?

"I have been kinda having a good time since I got my degree back. I don't want to end it like that."

Even so, perhaps the only reason she even noticed him was that crazy Intersect-induced 'flipping over the table' manoeuvre he did. At least the random dash music-mad couple were good for something.

"I don't have a boyfriend, Chuck." She snapped at him with a dirty look, though Chuck could sense a bit of sadness and resentment mixed with pain in her eyes. She was a spy and people like her didn't really get a chance at having good or safe relationships.

Despite _**Brian's**_ many attempts when they met during the Omaha Project, she kept on rebuffing his advances. Granted, he was a charming guy and a highly efficient spy, but after having the pleasure of knowing Chuck, one of the few people she considered worth saving apart from her parents, She had trouble connecting with anyone on a personal and emotional level like she did with him. However, as time passed and the CAT Squad broke up in the wake of the Augusto Gaez debacle, temptation and loneliness got better of her as she eventually gave into his flirtations, especially when they were asked to work as partners, starting a fling with him. Just when she was starting to consider the possibility of a real relationship with him, the bastard had the audacity to go rogue and disappear. And only then she managed to learn that bastard was none other than the traitorous scumbag who messed with her friend's life all those years ago.

Needless to say, being reminded of that, especially by the very same friend, wasn't exactly most pleasant experience of her life.

"Not anymore. Because he dumped me four months ago."

"I had no idea." Chuck replied in a nervous timbre. Something about her scowl put him off more than it should have. "Ugh... sorry Sarah. I think you shouldn't get upset over some douchebag. You're too pretty and awesome for that. I mean... you are pretty and you are awesome... boy I should just shut up now."

_Great! I end up acting like a gassed-up clown and kill the mood. Who the hell did I think I was? Chatting with supermodel types at parties like Cole Barker is totally not my thing. I really don't know how I survived that particular week at Harvard._

Her expression immediately softened. Perhaps she was that good at reading people or he just looked pathetic enough for her let him off. Geez. Women were too hard for him to understand. He really wished Orion put something inside the Intersect to help him in that regard.

"I really needed to hear that." She giggled in amusement, taking a moment to figure out what she should do next. "Umm... thanks Chuck."

"No problemo Sarah. I have always been an articulate schmuck." Chuck grinned, feeling relieved that damage control was finally complete and he didn't come off as a total idiot like he feared. However, he was definitely caught off guard when she gave him a hug. Chuck shrugged his shoulders and eventually hugged her back, taking in the scent of her lavender conditioner. _Not only she is pretty, she smells pretty too... Get it together, Charles. She is way out of your league._

After a moment, Sarah parted the hug. She started feeling better about herself – despite all the mishaps regarding her personal and professional life – all thanks to the young man standing in front of her.

She then turned to him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, whispering closely in his ears, "Finish up your drink. I want to dance."

_Someone shoot me now. This cannot be happening._

"I... am not really good at... that sort of stuff."

"Don't worry Chuck. All you have do is follow my lead." She just smiled at him and motioned to his beer.

Sighing, he brought the bottle to his lips and finished it. He felt a bit content and all his nervousness soon turned into excitement.

Despite a shaky start and dealing with a crappy boss at work, his day was ending very positively, in his opinion.

"Sure. Why not?" He said before taking her hand.

...xxxxx...xxxxxxx...

At a secret facility which belonged to the Department of Naval Intelligence, Admiral Michael Kernan and General Diane Beckman – Directors of the NGA and NSA respectively – were reviewing the information presented to them by Chief Analyst Robert "Robb" Williams and NSA field agent Major John Casey. It was the usual friendly chit chat between two extremely smart and driven individuals, trying to deal with the unusual problem they had on their hands. Michael expressed his reservations about conducting the meeting in Director Graham's absence. Beckman, in contrast, was reluctant to trust the CIA since it was Agent Anderson – one of their operatives – who stole the Intersect and downloaded it onto that damned PDA, which despite their best efforts they could not access. At this rate, the whole Intersect operation was going to be a huge failure and the resulting fallout (which not even the CIA and NSA directors could avoid) would be widespread. Beckman hoped that her friend could offer some helpful advice on how to move forward from this fiasco.

"First of all, you made a mistake by killing Agent Anderson. If you had captured him instead, we wouldn't be in this much trouble." Michael replied in a nonchalant manner. "Thanks to Rambo here, we are now _this _close to losing the Intersect."

"No. You have a dead traitor. That's a gold star in my book. Besides, he wasn't someone you can capture easily." John Casey responded without a care in the world.

"Any update on the PDA we recovered from Anderson?" Michael turned his focus on Robert, the lean tech guy in his late 50s.

"It has a built in self-destruct mechanism which we can't seem to override, despite our best efforts." Robert replied in a regretful tone.

"How much time do we have?" Beckman asked impatiently.

"Anywhere between 7 and 14 days. Anderson utilized a highly classified and very effective compression algorithm. We don't know the exact nature or origins of the program but after spending nearly a month analyzing it, we can say it was developed by a very gifted inventor and programmer. Said algorithm has the ability to compress any large database and video files by a factor of 90 million, converting them into a concentrated digital sphere of information. In addition, the data is encrypted behind millions of images. It makes hacking virtually impossible for our people." Robert replied as he read information from within a brown folder.

"So there is no way around it? We can't afford to lose the Intersect. No matter what it takes." Beckman said, her voice a mix of frustration, hostility and desperation.

"Why are we going nuts over this computer again? And why was Anderson after it?" Casey asked out of curiosity.

"The computer did everything." Michael replied in a factual manner, causing Casey to blink for a moment. "After 9/11, the NSA, CIA and every other three-letter agency belonging to the alphabet soup was asked to play nice and share their intel. This is how we did it."

"Every scrap of data we ever had is in that computer. It mined for charts, patterns, images, sound, visuals... It has heard and seen things that we didn't." Beckman said in a grim tone. "If we can't put those secrets back where they belong..."

"I believe you won't have to worry about that any longer." Michael said with a confident and rather smug smile.

"Admiral Kernan, what exactly do you mean by that?" Beckman was immediately interested. She had known Michael from back in the day when he used to work for Naval Intelligence. He wasn't the type to lead them on, especially during these crucial times.

"Let me tell you about a little side project one of my boys came up with," He said smugly as he took out a green folder from the drawer and put it up on the table for everyone to see. He opened the folder, revealing the usual classified documentation; more eye-catching, however, were the nerdy looking glasses lying on top. Upon tapping the bridge, the glasses exuded a momentary emerald glow.

Upon the first page of said documentation, the following was printed:

_CIPS: Carmichael Net Interfacing Programmed Software_


	8. Chapter 8

Dr Jonas Zarnow hated being the bearer of bad news. Especially when said news was delivered to his 'real' employer, Ted Roark. With each step he took towards Roark's personal office, the beads of sweet grew thicker, ran a little faster. Roark wasn't someone who took kindly to bad news, no matter how great or small.

In front of him stood his employer's door, decorated by a plaque which read _Ted Roark_. Taking a deep calming breath, he straightened his lab jacket and knocked on the door thrice. Seconds later, he was let inside.

Ted Roark. The man who built Roark Instruments from the ground up. In the beginning RI was merely a dream, mixed with an idea that he stole from his college roommate. Now it was one of the largest international corporations, with operations spread across the globe. Furthermore, it was one of the biggest US Federal Government contractors and received a 7% share of Pentagon contract funds (second only to that of Lockheed Martin). And unbeknownst to the world, he was also the figurehead of a rather small but rapidly growing group of disgruntled federal agents and military officials who weren't happy with how the US government was handling things. An increasingly powerful organization with incredible financial backing and connections to most, if not all the notable three-letter agencies.

"Yes." Ted said in his usual carefree tone. Sitting at his desk, he sifted through different files on his laptop.

Zarnow found it difficult to speak, so he took another deep breath and tried to clear his throat. He hated it. Even though it wasn't his fault, it was always him going to Roark. Getting reprimanded for the mistakes he never made. It wasn't fair to him.

There was a time when he used to be a good person.

A man of science. A man of knowledge. A man of wisdom.

When it first happened, he had no idea what was going on. He sold some crucial government secrets to North Korea and China. He thought it was a government-assigned mission. He had official orders from the NSA. His superior, Doctor Busgang, had repeatedly assured him he was actually helping his agency and this was a sting. But all of it turned out to be a huge fat lie and Busgang revealed he was a FULCRUM agent. Unfortunately, there was no way for Zarnow to inform the authorities; had he tried to, he would have been decreed a traitor and suffered the consequences that came with such an action, whereas the real culprit would have walked away scot-free.

He wanted to retaliate, to rebel, to fight back. But he couldn't find it in himself to do so. He needed to think about his family. His wife. His daughter.

Eventually, it became easier for him to accept his unwanted position and he got used to the perks that came with it. In order to become a hero to his family, he needed to become a traitor to his country. Instead of solving the problem, he became part of it and now he had no other option but to live with that.

To live as a pawn for FULCRUM.

"Speed this up, Zarnow. I have a launch party to attend in an hour."

Zarnow summoned the bravery needed to speak. "There have been some new... developments... regarding the Intersect."

Roark cocked a brow. "New developments?"

"An engineer working for the NGA has developed technology... which can access and utilize the data inside Anderson's PDA and put it in a CIPHER."

"Interesting." Roark attempted to remain calm. "What kind of technology?"

Zarnow swallowed hard. "We have no idea. But General Beckman is impressed enough that she has ordered me to surrender all of my old research to the NGA. They are planning to shift the Intersect to a secure site which our sources have no knowledge of."

With a stern facial expression, Roark stood up and slammed his palms on the desk. His cold, ruthless eyes zeroed in on Zarnow, who felt the sensation of being pierced by daggers. "Am I the only one who understands the importance of that computer? What it means for the entire world's future? What it means for FULCRUM's future?"

"No, Sir. " Zarnow said, starting to feel a bit startled. "We all do."

"Fantastic." Roark chuckled, his voice filled with venomous sarcasm. "Tremendous. You are all sorry, so apologetic. You feel really bad. Well now, that makes up for your incompetence, doesn't it?"

"Not to undermine the importance of having the Government Intersect, but we have achieved quite the breakthrough at our Meadow Branch."

"Of course. Of course." Roark nodded. "I had Tommy recruit Anderson and have him break into the Government Intersect facility only because I wanted to see whether or not it could be stolen. It wasn't like we needed it in the first place."

"I am terribly sorry."

The best thing Zarnow could do was admit defeat and simply agree with everything his employer said thereon.

"I am not without compassion, Zarnow." Roark crossed his arms. "I have always seen much potential in you, much promise. Bravery too. You are never afraid to approach me when our missions go awry. So I am offering you a window of opportunity. A chance to walk away."

Zarnow turned his head, stunned by his words. "What do you mean by that?"

"Right now, the PDA is kept under the watchful eyes of the NSA." Roark continued, approaching him in an ominous way, truly becoming the dark side of his conscience. "Even if the NGA is about to take over the project, their engineer must meet up with you, at least once or twice. All you need to do is bring him / her to us alongside the tech they are using to utilize the Government Intersect. Besides, our agents will be there to help you at all times. You won't even need to lift a finger. Once you successfully complete this assignment, you are free to walk away from everything. You and your family will be granted safe passage to Dubai. You will be rewarded with more money than most people have ever dreamed of. Furthermore, RI will set up a new business for you, which won't have any connections with my extracurricular activities."

This was making Zarnow very uncomfortable. It felt ominous. It felt like Roark was trying to mold him into something. Now, if he had an opportunity to leave all this behind and wipe the slate clean, he needed to act quickly.

"If you would excuse me, I am going to try and see if I can find out more about this operation."

"Very well. Best of luck to you." Roark replied as Zarnow exited his office. Taking a long breath, he walked over to the windows behind his desk. His hands clasped behind his back, he stared out at the morning sun peeking above the LA skyline. Failing to secure the Intersect at the first time of asking was a huge setback, no two ways around it. But discovering there was someone working for the government who knew how to utilize the handiwork of Stephen Bartowski...

Perhaps, there might be a silver lining hidden within this dark cloud after all.

...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

The entire place was crowded, everyone bouncing under the flashing lights. Arms, elbows and sometimes humans themselves moved back and forth in random directions, moving to their own beat. There was a reason why the dance floor scared Chuck much more than any training simulation he had been through. Part of it was thanks to his former trainer / ex-girlfriend Lou Palone. Despite being a consummate professional and a kick-ass Federal Agent, she happened to be one of the most energetic dancers he had ever met. Yeah, he could admit that in spite of knowing who his sister's boyfriend was. Sometimes, when they went to the club together, more often than not he found her dancing the night away. With her eyes closed and mouth firmly set, she was poetry in motion, setting the dance floor on fire, as well the poor hearts of male clubgoers and her geeky boyfriend.

Even so, he had to admit Sarah Walker clearly matched her in that department. She had turned the entire floor into an inferno, moving with a level of grace and speed that made damn near everyone else look like amateurs. If it wasn't for the military-grade training regime he went through in order to improve his endurance and overall body control, it would have been impossible to keep up with her. Many guys tried to dance with her but she was just... impossible to match, her moves belying a stamina and agility beyond anyone else in the club.

Chuck, on the other hand, followed the same lessons Lou taught him; he let go of his insecurities and fears, focusing purely on his beautiful companion. He jumped when she did, waved his arms about when she did, slid in her direction, twisting and shaking his body to match her movements. Once he ascertained her beat, he had no trouble keeping up with her. That said, doing so without accidentally hitting someone mid-dance was harder than using the Intersect to dodge a barrage of ping pong balls. At least he did a good job of disguising the fact it took a great deal of conscious effort on his part.

He thought he finally found his groove... at least until Sarah suddenly changed pace and slid her backside against his groin. Holy hell, he wasn't expecting that. Chuck's brain immediately went into DEFCON 1 as his cheeks started heating up, fearing she'd think he was some sort of creep. Thankfully, she simply laughed at seeing him all embarrassed and nervous, which gave him the courage to continue dancing with her.

...xxxxx...xxxxxx...

There were a few more drinks and many dances until the music stopped, the regular lights came on and they were forced to leave. He was really startled to realize it was now four in the morning. Several beers had left him feeling a bit fuzzy, warm and slightly uncoordinated.

He wondered if Ellie would be happy to hear about this.

They made it outside the club and Chuck decided to stick around until she found her car in the parking lot, which happened to be a gleaming black Porsche convertible. It felt great to see at least one of his friends was living the sort of life he wanted for himself. Despite spending much of the night together, they hadn't talked much after their initial conversation. To her credit, Sarah had tried to converse with him after that, but the loud music had made that all but impossible. So this was the second time they had a real chance to exchange dialogue.

"I want to thank you for giving me a chance to relax and let my hair down... for a while." Chuck nervously tapped his feet on the floor while Sarah grinned at him. "It was nice to... just have fun and spend time with you. Even though it's been a long time since we met."

"I bet it was." Sarah looked up at him with a stern expression on her face. "That ass grabbing was not at all what I meant when I told you we needed to catch up. You've changed a lot in the last five years, Chuck. I thought you were a gentleman."

Chuck's face fell as he paled in horror and panic.

"I d-didn't... I never... I mean... it... wasn't..." He stammered only to stop when he saw Sarah grinning widely at him. Chuck looked at her uncertainly for a moment before the realization hit him. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

"Yep." She said and laughed, giving his shoulder a light nudge. "Don't be upset though. I had a really great time with you as well. I don't say this to guys very often, but you definitely had the moves tonight."

"I am glad to hear that." Chuck remarked in a jovial tone. "So what do you do nowadays, Sarah? Still working for that company in Sweden? And the whole witness protection thing... is that still happening?" he added with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Though I have more leeway than I used to." Sarah trailed off rather awkwardly, taking her key card out of her purse. "For the last three and a half years I've been working as a troubleshooter of sorts for the TFI. The government has me flying all over the world to collect and analyze information about the abuse of the financial system for illicit activities and how can we prevent that from happening. I am officially living in DC though."

Granted that wasn't the complete truth, but she felt this overwhelming need to offer him some modicum of truth. Besides, she did work with the people involving a particular agency on a regular basis, at the beginning of her career. She was scary good regarding subjects involving money and business. She was trained by one of the greatest white-collar thieves to ever exist in US history and her grades at Harvard spoke for themselves. FinCEN wanted to keep her but Graham had a certain career path for her in mind and once she was given her Red Test, there was no going back.

The CIA thought they turned her into an obedient, cold, ruthless, bloodthirsty assassin; more often than not, she let them think that way but unbeknownst to everyone else, that was just a con she pulled on them. What they didn't know and would never know, was that every night she fell asleep and every morning she woke up, Sarah would always take a few minutes off to reflect upon herself, thinking about the normal life she wanted and needed, but couldn't have until she fulfilled her obligations to the CIA.

_Four years have passed. Just two more to go._

"I c-can't believe it. You are FININT." Chuck stared at her in awe and disbelief. "That's really cool. No wonder you own a Porsche. Congratulations. I always knew you would be out there doing something amazing." He let out a low whistle, reaching over and giving her a friendly pat on the shoulders. "You are like a female Jack Ryan."

Sarah wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or disheartened about the comparison with a fictional spy. Especially when she lived in that sort of everyday. Perhaps, to someone like Chuck, that might be an exciting prospect but seeing or reading stuff like that... just wore her down.

"No, I am not." She said quickly, staring at him with sad solemn eyes that immediately drew him in. For a moment, just a second, he thought about reaching out and closing the distance between them. His self discipline kept him from doing anything stupid. "Please don't treat me any differently because of that. It's just like any other job out there."

"I will keep that in mind, Sarah." He said with a bright smile.

"You better." A beautiful smile graced her face as she continued, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. At first Chuck had this outrageous thought that she might be blushing, then he immediately shrugged that off. There was no way in hell this beautiful, elegant and amazing woman had any interest in him beyond friendship. At the end of the day, he was just a mid-level GEOINT Analyst who only received Federal Agent training thanks to the computer stuck inside his head. While she was a FININT special operative with a level 4 security clearance. By professional standards alone, she was way above his league. As the silence between them continued, he couldn't help but fidget.

Thankfully, Sarah was the first one to break the silence.

"So why don't you come by my place? I still don't know the whole story behind you getting your degree back and joining the NGA." She offered with a cheerful smile.

"I really hate to bring this up... but I need to report at Fort Belvoir 8 o'clock sharp." Chuck remarked apologetically. "I wish I could call in sick or something like that but I have some... important reports to make." He concluded with a smile, trying to move past the sudden awkwardness which had crept up between them.

"Oh come on! All work and no play is going to make you a dull nerd." Sarah playfully smacked his shoulder.

"Look, I will make it up to you." Chuck began awkwardly. "In honor of... our positions within the government and me getting my degree back, even though it's been a couple of years, would you like to go out for dinner? I can tell you the crazy story about how I got recruited by the NGA and take that prickly self-righteous provost down a peg or two."

"I would like that. Pick me up at 7:30." She said happily, grinning like she hadn't for ages.

"Forgive me if you find the food terrible tomorrow. Crappy coffee machine at my office nearly destroyed my taste-buds." Chuck teased which caused Sarah to laugh. It felt great to see that despite all these big changes in his life, Chuck didn't change that much. However, before she could talk further, he started heading in a different direction, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

"Where do you think you are going?" She pondered. Chuck stammered for a moment as he tried to decide what he was going to say next.

"Uh... home. I thought we were meeting at 7:30." Chuck responded.

"You don't know where I live. You don't have my number. So how do you expect to find me?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"Ha! That's a good question!" He chuckled nervously.

Sarah took out a folded note from her purse and scooted closer to him until Chuck could feel her breath gently tickling his earlobe. In his ear, she whispered, "Call me and let me know when you are available."

Chuck almost winced at the way those seductive, honeyed and barely audible words echoed inside his head. He figured that his blonde friend was trying to give him a heart attack. He looked at her questioningly. His thoughts were a bit scattered but he also found his inhibitions lowered. He took a long breath and looked at her. She seemed slightly nervous, yet she was also staring at him with adornment. He could feel the warmth of her skin, smell the subtle fragrance of her perfume and see the shade of her lipstick, despite the darkness. As if he had suddenly activated night-vision abilities.

_Get a grip on yourself, Chuck. It's not like you're out on a date or something. Besides, she was just playing a joke on you. No need to go all Edward Cullen on her. Damn! I gotta stop reading those cheesy romantic novels Awesome gave me._

Sarah looked up at him with a confident smile. His eyes were locked with hers, she felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest and her mind almost went blank.

_Okay, just wait a bit and he will kiss you. Have some patience._

"So..." Chuck cleared his throat and moved his face slightly away from hers, albeit with visible effort. "I really gotta get going. I barely have a couple of hours to take a power nap." He added weakly. She had just come out of a long relationship and wanted to confide in him as a friend, but for some reason all he could think was how unbelievably attractive she was. He really needed to purge those stupid fantasies from his brain and get his act together before they met for dinner. He couldn't dishonor their friendship by acting like a giddy teenager with a silly crush.

_What? Are you serious, Chuck?_ It took much of her training not to openly gape at him in shock.

"I will... look forward to tomorrow evening." He gave her a quick hug, then turned around and left.

_Five long years and... still the same clueless idiot he was back then._

Silently fuming, she kicked a pebble to the side and got inside the car.


	9. Chapter 9

Chuck hadn't got round to setting his alarm before stumbling back to his room and collapsing onto his bed, still in the same clothes he wore at the club last night. Blinding sunlight shone through a small window, which was covered by a set of blinds that only did a half-assed job of blocking it. His eyes flickered open briefly. His head was aching and his tongue felt like sand paper. _Is this what the morning after usually feels like?_ Thoughts of the previous night brought a smile to his face. It had been a while since he had done something crazy and enjoyed it.

"Why must it be Tuesday?" Chuck muttered with a yawn. Dusting his hands off, he laid back in his bed, not wanting tot get up at all.

Damn that sun! Couldn't it have picked up a better time to rise? Or better yet, not risen at all? One of these days he was going to find some way to turn it off! It always seemed to rise at the worst time. Grunting slightly, he slowly sat up.

As the brown-haired youth began to regain cognitive thoughts, he stretched himself out and jumped out of bed. Slowly but surely, Chuck Bartowski got up and made his way towards the bathroom, albeit with a stumbling gait.

"Another day, another dollar." Chuck sighed. It was just another day in his new life and not much had changed. He wasn't living the high life he dreamed of back at Stanford. He didn't get along with 80% of his colleagues. His seniors were becoming unbearable as they didn't know half the stuff they were talking about. Chuck often corrected their mistakes, a habit rewarded with a position at the top of his boss' shitlist. Courtesy of his privileged situation – Ha! – he couldn't be sacked for anything short of a capital offense. Which frustrated certain people in positions of authority to no end. As a result, he usually felt lonely and vulnerable.

Yes, he had come a long way since his wrongful expulsion from Stanford, but there was still much to be desired in his view. In the rat race that was life, it felt like being stuck halfway and not knowing how to free oneself and continue moving forward. His training program – as physically and mentally demanding as it was – was no catch-all problem-solver. Chuck was still saddled with unresolved personal issues. Things that stopped him from having a social life. With that weighing on his shoulders (not to mention his pariah status), he preferred to work alone. Especially with Lou gone. Although not as hung up on her as he thought he would be, he definitely missed having a companion / confidant. Now he felt somewhat lost and distracted.

Suddenly the picture of his parents, stationed on the top of his drawers, grabbed his attention. Chuck closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. He focused for a moment, looking both inward and outward, picturing his parents while his mind, body and soul searched for something.

Something he had been dearly hoping to find out ever since he opened that god damned case.

Answers about the sudden disappearance of his parents.

After a second or two, he sighed.

"Still nothing..."

There was not even a hint of what he had been looking for. How depressing.

_'It' must have some information about them. I just need to find the right trigger._

He shook his head and slapped himself on the cheeks to get out of his minor funk. It would be best not to dwell on it. There was always tomorrow, right? Right.

The shower began to steam and Chuck stepped in. Whether he liked it or not, he still had a long day ahead of him, with yet more office trouble, no doubt. And then he had to prepare himself for dinner with a very beautiful and sophisticated woman, who was a Harvard graduate, worked as a special consultant for FinCEN, and owned a bloody Porsche. Though Sarah didn't seem like the judgmental type, he still wanted to live up to her standards and not make a fool of himself. The fact he had no idea what they'd do that evening wasn't helping.

And yet, in spite of his misgivings about that, Chuck was happy. Today was going to be a good day, he could feel it.

...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

Chuck yawned. His head rested on the table and he was tuning his current assignment out. Which involved assessing, evaluating and extracting elevation data from stereo imagery. He and his colleagues also had to submit long and detailed reviews for the products created by contractors and co-producers. It wasn't like his opinions would make that much difference; they were only trying to get the general consensus from the analysts in order to ensure that final products were engineered to meet the stringent accuracy requirements specified. He found some of the Motion Imagery Processing software interesting, but the rest of the survey was quite tedious.

_Just type the first words which come to mind._ Which wasn't a big problem for him. He was only dealing with some pretty basic stuff, so he didn't need to think thoroughly about any of those. He wore his usual careless expression as he moved from one slide to another.

He wasn't the only one. Most of his colleagues groaned alongside him. Deepak Manoosh stifled a yawn before leaning back in his chair, giving him a look. "Tired?"

"Was it that obvious?" Chuck sighed, once again trying and failing to bite back a yawn.

Deepak raised an eyebrow, adding with a mischievous smile, "You look about ready to pass out. I even saw your eyes dim for a few seconds. It seems you went all-out with a smoking hot bombshell last night. I gotta admit Chuck, you are a fast learner."

"Nah. She's just... a friend, someone I met at Harvard. Sarah Walker. I think I told you about her once."

Deepak blinked in confusion before recalling the conversation they shared last month. He spoke out once again, his voice filled with confusion and disbelief. Frankly, he was stupefied at how and why a straight male in Chuck's position wouldn't jump at the chance to make love to _her__._

"Huh! You gotta be kidding me. That was the girl who invited you to her apartment for..."

"Yep, and she's a FININT special operative. She also drives a Porsche." Chuck shrugged. "We stayed at the club till four and I asked her out for..."

"A date?"

"No. A dinner between friends. She just wanted to catch up and find out what I've been up to lately. She actually suggested we head over to her apartment but I was sleepy... I had to think about the office and I was kind of drunk... a little... and... it would have been super awkward so I pitched in with the idea."

"You like her!" Deepak exclaimed, half pushing himself up from his chair.

Chuck scowled in an effort to hide his blush. He reached over and swatted his Indian colleague on the back of his head, eliciting a yelp of surprise. "It's not anything like that. She is smart, sensible and smoking hot... She is out of all of our leagues, everyone in this office combined. Besides, she recently had a nasty break-up. I think dating is the last thing on her mind right now. And if having a dinner with someone means that I like them, by that logic I should be head-over-heels for you." Chuck tried to counter.

"I didn't know you thought about me that way, Bartowski." Deepak gasped, laying a hand on his chest with a dramatic sigh. "I appreciate the thought and you are totally my type. However, I am attracted to women, you see. But don't worry, we will always be friends."

Chuck stared at him with half-lidded eyes. "You done yet, drama queen?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Deepak said, dropping the act. "No one is out of anyone's league, Bartowski. They're just looking for something different. Heck, some of them don't even know what they are looking for."

"That almost sounded deep. Are you really Manoosh?" Chuck asked doubtfully, looking fascinated, as an artist would when beholden to his muse. He grabbed his ballpen and used it to poke lightly at the former MIT grad's thighs. "An imposter, maybe?" He added jokingly.

"Hey. What's that supposed to mean?" Deepak responded in a mock hurt tone.

Before they could continue their banter, the front door to the office swung open and everything came to a sudden stop. Every analyst and IT support staff looked up to whoever decided to invade their sacred territory.

It was quite obvious he stood out from everyone else. He was dressed in brown Marine Corps service uniform, the perpetual scowl on his face promised nothing but ill intent, and last but not least, he was built like a gorilla.

Everyone was dead silent, with rapt attention being paid to him. Chuck didn't even know he'd been lowering himself within his cubicle until his sight-line stopped shifting. Perhaps it was time to make himself scarce; when a scary guy with a look that could induce fear in serial killers crashed the party, it was time to leave.

"Which one of you morons is Bartowski?"

_Well shit. There goes that idea._

Every eye in the office turned Chuck's way, as if he was a giant neon sign. It wasn't quite as damning as the throwing of Christians to the lions, but the lanky analyst felt there was some credence to that kind of thinking.

Gathering all of his courage, Chuck stood up from his sitting position and walked towards the scary guy who seemed like he was ready to shoot him in the face at any passing moment. "I am Charles Bartowski, GEOINT Analyst and Computer Scientist. Is there anything I can do for you, Mister...?"

Chuck spoke out, extending his hand with some visible effort on his part.

"John Casey. Special Agent, NSA." The man introduced himself with a grunt, not even bothering to look at his hand, let alone shake it. "Admiral Kernan told my boss that you are a golden boy, top-of-the-line recruit. Prove it. You have a presentation to make at Ft Meade in two hours and my orders are to bring you in."

Casey shoved a file into Chuck's hands. The rookie analyst looked down at the green folder in his hands then back up at Casey.

"Don't I need prior notice... before taking part in something like this?" Chuck asked, still a bit shaken by the sudden appearance of this scary man.

Casey smirked. "You really are a golden boy, huh? The NSA is offering you an opportunity to prove yourself and you are trying to turn us down."

Chuck replied in a defiant tone. "The protocol requires–"

"The protocol requires _nothing,_ moron. We don't have time to do everything by-the-book. I need you downstairs in the next five minutes." Casey stated in a dead serious tone, then marched off before Chuck could even respond, leaving the young man to bumble his way to an open desk.

He changed his mind. Now he felt today was going to suck.


	10. Chapter 10

Michael sat in his office, once again continuing his endless battle against countless projects and reports waiting for his approval, while taking the occasional sip of black coffee. Upon hearing someone knock on the door, the Admiral raised his head and quirked a brow. "Come in!"

The door opened to reveal a familiar face; a dark-skinned African-American, appearing to be in his mid-50s. He was none other than Langston Graham, Director of the CIA. The Admiral's eyes narrowed in recognition. Back in the day, the two of them worked together on several occasions and carried out some high-risk covert ops in the Gulf. Graham had been very competitive and ambitious even back then, but they had been on good terms.

As time went by and he grew up, the way Michael used to see the world evolved, he got married, fathered two children (a boy and a girl), and bought a house. By the time his children went to college, he also experienced some life-altering events; consequently, many of his philosophies – especially about how the intelligence agencies and personnel in general should operate – had completely changed. This led to him becoming a maverick amongst his fellow agency heads, with whom he occasionally had disagreements on said issues. That said, he didn't interfere with the way they ran their agencies; as much as he hated to admit it, he still had to make a living.

Seeing Graham enter his chambers meant that something unexpected had happened, which unnerved him a bit even though he didn't let it show.

"It's been a while, Warhawk. Good to see you are still managing despite your age." Graham greeted him before taking a seat.

The Admiral gave a slight chuckle. "I still have a lot of fight left in me, Viper. But don't you think the CIA Director has more pressing matters to deal with than my retirement plans?"

"Indeed. The Belgrade bombing. The destruction of the Intersect facility. The loss of the next-gen tank schematics." Graham said, his gaze lingering on the American flag both of them loved and desired to protect in their own ways. "Still, I think I will survive. You know better than most how good I am at surviving."

The Admiral nodded, taking a deep calming breath before slowly taking a sip of coffee. "Time will soon pass us by. I can only hope the next generation lives up to the challenge." He said before turning back to Graham. "And hopefully they won't take the clandestine teachings to heart." Graham's eyes narrowed slightly. "It would be better if they found their own path, based on their own human reasoning and experiences. Anyway, enough beating around the bush. What brings you here?"

"I have heard some interesting stories about a man in your agency; a certain rookie analyst by the name of Charles Bartowski. For example – NIH researchers wanted to know how land use and roadways impacted air pollution and, in turn, how pollution would affect health in local residents. Apparently he played a major role in the creation of an advanced GIS technology, a first-of-its-kind Geo AI that helped them analyze traffic patterns over different times of the day in relation to the concentration of harmful particles in the air. By using this information to predict when pollution levels would become dangerous, the city could issue warnings as early as possible. I believe this success earned you a significant sum of budget dollars." Graham replied.

"Well, he is a gem of a person and one of the most brilliant minds to join our agency," the Admiral said with a hint of pride in his tone.

"Indeed, though I am curious as to why you seemingly plucked him out of nowhere two years ago. He was a proven cheater at the time, was he not?"

"It's a long story. The short version is we initially recruited him for his hacking skills after seeing his performance at a DATACON event. And by the time his polygraph exam was underway, Stanford declared him innocent of any and all wrongdoings." Michael remarked in a casual tone.

"Hmm... Interesting." Graham responded thoughtfully. He actually remembered Charles Bartowski from the Stanford debacle five years prior. George Fleming, the CIA recruiter stationed in said institution, attempted to bring him into the fold after taking note of his intellectual abilities and the knowledge he possessed in various tech-related fields. As it turned out, Bryce "Pain in his Ass" Larkin (a recruit at the time) – God damn him to hell – was Bartowski's roommate. He convinced Graham that Bartowski was a scam artist who made easy money by using his hacking skills to steal test answers and sell them to other students. Bryce even promised to hand him over to the authorities himself, which he did.

Out of anger and disappointment, Graham tried to hurt Bartowski even more and wanted to teach the brat a lesson for messing with his agency's recruitment process. The Provost was initially expected to strip him of his scholarship, give him a few months of community service and let him take his final exam; a light sentence based on his overall upstanding behavior and the evidence pointing towards his supposed guilt being of a low standard. However, Graham used his political might to force Stanford to expel Bartowski outright.

In the end, he was proven wrong. He shouldn't have jumped to conclusions based on what he heard from Larkin and Fleming, which made him feel somewhat frustrated. In his haste to have Bartowski punished, he threw away an opportunity to acquire a bright and brilliant recruit.

"Do you intend to play a bigger role in the new Intersect initiative? Bartowski may prove to be an ideal candidate for Project Omaha." Graham offered with a glint in his eyes. "Great memory, off-the-chart IQ, a keen eye for detail and sharp perception. I believe we can work something out that benefits both our agencies. Besides, keeping an analyst under control shouldn't be difficult."

"I am sorry, old friend." Michael remarked in a dry tone. "I don't mind lending you support or helpful advice as far as technical or scientific aspects are concerned. However, I will personally refrain from getting involved with unethical activities. And I certainly will not force someone in my agency's employ to be part of something which I deem to be neither safe nor ethical. I have no intention of repeating the mistakes of my predecessors, like bringing in Dr Hartley all those years ago." He concluded in a stern tone, leaving no room for further argument.

Graham's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You still suffer from the same stubbornness which has always prevented you from seeing the big picture. It is a shame that you have forgotten your own lessons." Michael's eyes met his glare before Graham turned towards the door. "In any case, I can rest easier for the time being. After all, who knows? NGA policies might not stay the same when a new director swears in." With that closing remark, he left. In truth, he intended to make his own observations as well. He already knew that Bartowski undertook special analyst training and was handpicked by NGA to study at NIU campus for a brief while. In addition to all that. he disappeared for more than six and half months after winning the first prize in some DARPA competition , only to somehow miraculously re appear and start working for NGA as if he was nothing more than your everyday ordinary_ techspert_ . Graham couldn't help but feel slightly suspicious about everything. His gut feeling was that Bartowski was part of something big, something important, something which could possibly make or break his entire career. He had learned to listen to that feeling to discern what his mind missed.

He needed to keep a closer eye on Bartowski.

...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxx...

Needless to say, Chuck was still having some difficulty getting to grips with everything that had just happened; a familiar feeling where he was concerned, given the matter at hand. After learning the truth about his father and his ongoing involuntary stint as a host for state-of-the-art software, there wasn't much out there that could faze him. Even the fact he was waiting with Casey in an otherwise empty hallway and could clearly see him playing with his Glock 29.

_Who the hell is this person? And how rude can he get? He is treating a guy he just met as an inferior being. Just like that Saiyan prince with the weird haircut who went through an existential mid-life crisis just because he wanted a specific hair color._

Casey, on the other hand, seemed a bit intrigued. To his utmost displeasure he never got the chance to become a drill sergeant because the drill sergeants feared him. Putting the fear of God or himself in civilian employees cheered him up. He could tell Bartowski was a bit nervous but he tried his best not to let it show. He just sat there quietly, concentrating on the contents of the file. To give credit where it was due, he looked the part of a serious company scientist, even though he was just a rookie who finished his Masters at the National Intelligence University last year. At least that's what his file said.

Precisely 115 minutes and 35 seconds later (Chuck was counting), the door opened. Both men stood up expectantly.

"You better behave yourself out there, Bartowski. You are about to meet a very powerful individual in the intelligence community."

Chuck turned to Casey, trying to force a smile on his face.

"I appreciate your concern Agent Casey, but I believe I am more than capable of taking care of myself. My INT levels are over nine thousand." Chuck finished with a two-finger salute.

"Good for you." Casey remarked without a care in the world, throwing him a mild analytical gaze before both of them entered the room. Clearly, the government was splashing out on furniture; there were just two chairs in the room, one of which was placed behind a desk (which had a small laptop on it). Behind the desk sat a woman with reddish hair; she looked about a decade younger than his boss and had a very stern expression on her face. She was looking at him with a measuring gaze, as though he was some sort of equipment she was thinking of purchasing. Her scrutiny made him uncomfortable.

It didn't take him long to figure out said individual was General Diane Beckman, Director of the NSA. She was a public figure so he obviously knew of her.

"Good afternoon, Mr Bartowski. I believe we have met each other before."

"Yes Ma'am. You awarded me my certificate last year alongside many other NIU graduates. I went there to work on a research project back then. If my memory serves me right, You delivered a speech about the NIU becoming the center of academic life for the intelligence community."

"Ah, I remember now. You were part of the team that won the cyber grand challenge that year at DARPA."

"Yeah. It was not all me, though. Everyone worked really hard for that. Besides, anyone can win a competition so it's not that big a deal."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. But finishing your Masters in Computer Science and Engineering at at Washington State University in the mere span of four and half months is ." Beckman spoke with a hint of curiosity and amusement in her tone. Chuck didn't really know whether to feel happy or sad. Being in the spotlight was supposed to be a good thing but in this scenario he wasn't sure if that held true.

"So what can I do for you, Ma'am?" Chuck asked, clasping his hands together. Sweat beaded down his neck as he spent what felt like an eternity awaiting her response.

Leaning forward from her chair, she sharply narrowed her eyes at him. "After 9/11, all intelligence and law enforcement agencies were asked to play nice and share details with each other. In order to do that, we built a very special kind of supercomputer which not only stored every scrap of data we had but analyzed it in order to discern meaningful chatter and patterns. Metaphorically speaking, it even had its own eyes and ears. Last month, a CIA agent whose codename was Brian Anderson went rogue and attempted to steal it. Before he was killed, he managed to convert everything into a series of encrypted pictures and stored them inside this PDA. Unless we decrypt and extract the data by week's end, this machine will self-destruct and all those secrets will be gone forever."

"And you think I can help you with this... thing?" Chuck found the very idea rather ludicrous.

"Under ordinary circumstances... I wouldn't have allowed it." Beckman replied in a thoughtful tone. "But after seeing one of your past projects, I changed my mind."

"My past projects?"

Beckman unwrapped a bundle in her right hand, revealing what appeared to be a pair of normal-looking glasses. She tapped the bridge, causing the glasses to produce a momentary cerulean glow.

Chuck instantly froze, starting to feel a bit hot under his collar.

_Fourteen year-old Chuck was crying on a bench. He had a really bad day today. He was short, he was scrawny and the fact that he was smarter than the entire class combined didn't help much. He hoped to make new friends in the school. He hoped the situation would change. Alas... He always seemed to attract the worst to him. Everyone ignored him like the plague and when they did interact with him, it was just to taunt or make fun of him. He sat in the bus stand alone. He had always been alone. Even his parents were now gone. Ellie tried her best, but the loss of their parents was a void that may never be filled._

_Suddenly, the sound of a horn blowing got his attention. He looked up only to see a young woman emerging from an old and rusty, albeit functional car. It was none other than Eleanor Bartowski, his beloved sister / _de facto_ guardian. She blinked at seeing the frail teen crying and immediately sat beside him. She patted his shoulder and spoke in a very soothing tone._

_"What happened, kiddo? Why are you crying rivers like this?"_

_"Big sis! Do you... think I am weak?" Chuck asked hesitantly. The question had been bothering him for a while now._

_"Hmm... Where has this come from?" Ellie asked with curiosity._

_"I am not very good at sports stuff. I am scrawny and I even have glasses on top of that. Liz said she can't be friends with me anymore 'cause I am pathetic and not cool like everyone else!" Chuck responded dejectedly, barely able to hold his tears. With a comforting smile, Ellie patted his shoulders and forced him to look up._

_"Answer me, Chuck! Is water weak or strong? If strong, how strong? If weak, how weak?"_

_"If it meets obstacles, it avoids them. Water is weak and cowardly. Fire is super cool." Chuck replied, pumping his fists in the air._

_"Water is good. It must give of itself endlessly, to embrace all of creation and revive dead seeds, until the ground dries up and cracks because there is nothing more to give. It makes itself humble and flows to where it flows. Thus, because water doesn't try to become strong, it is good." Ellie responded with a smile, ruffling his hair._

_"But... that doesn't make sense!" Chuck exclaimed, dumbfounded._

_"Everyone has their own definition of strength. Some think physical strength is real strength, some consider themselves cool just because they are wealthy and a number of people say that intelligence is the true strength. It's really difficult to figure out how to be strong and cool by others' standards." Ellie grabbed his hand and put it over his heart. "Don't ever call yourself pathetic again, Chuck. Because true strength lies in your heart."_

The former Nerd Herder took a long breath, allowing himself to be free of all thoughts. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his muscles.

"One of my WSU professors was in her 50's when her eyesight started to fail. In the space of a few months, she lost all central vision in both eyes as a result of age-related macular degeneration. Place a peanut on a table, and she wouldn't be able to see it; if she turned slightly and used her peripheral vision, she might catch a glimpse of it. She couldn't see people's faces or read text on a page. After she lost her central vision, she was kicked out of the academy. After talking with some of my sister's ophthalmologist friends, I came up with these glasses. I called them the Explorer. It worked in initial stages but my mentors at WSU deemed the project silly, unrealistic and a sheer waste of their resources." Chuck tried his best to answer in a neutral tone, but his sense of disappointment and frustration was palpable.

"Explain what it did in layman's terms." Beckman motioned for him to continue further.

"CIPS pursued the capability to learn generally applicable and generative representations of action between objects in a scene directly from visual inputs, and then reason over those learned representations. In short, it provides this device with an ability inherent to animals: Visual Intelligence..."

And just like that, he launched into his demonstration.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxx...

In the bathroom mirror, Jonas Zarnow stared at himself. His tired face, his bloodshot eyes, the bags under his eyes, the mess that was his hair. Even his skin looked dull. Yesterday, he couldn't find the engineer. So he arrived as early as possible this morning to resume his search. Yet again, he came up short. There was no finding them. It felt like searching for the tiniest needle in the world's largest haystack.

He could keep trying. Keep sorting through various databases, keep checking every cabinet, every desk, every closet of this agency. But it would do no good. While it may be possible to find this engineer, Zarnow just didn't want to. Why even try? Once he did, the only way for him to get out of FULCRUM's servitude was to pick someone else to take his place.

A part of him couldn't do it. Or didn't want to. Perhaps it was time for him to bite the bullet. He would march into that bastard Roark's office and tell the man in charge that he wouldn't go through with it any longer. If FULCRUM wanted to make his bullet-biting literal, so be it...

...On second thought, he wasn't that brave. Or reckless. Besides, if he had remained a company scientist for a legitimate company, he wouldn't be as well off as he was. He had his family at home to think of. Soon, they would finally leave everything behind and have everything they ever wanted. The dream house. The life.

How was he supposed to find this person? It was a seemingly insurmountable task. He was sure about one thing, though. If Beckman wanted to meet this engineer, she would trust only one person inside the entire NSA to bring them in.

All he needed to do was wait and watch.


	11. Chapter 11

Chuck immediately launched into an explanation about how CIPS decoded / stored images and sounds, as well as cross-checking them for similarities and matching patterns. Last year he accepted a request from two IBM / NSF scientists to join a project of around 100 people, including neuroscientists, computer engineers, physicists, mathematicians, and chemists. The main goal was to understand how mammalian brains worked, thus they decided to simulate a mouse's thalamus – the bit responsible for relaying motor and sensory signals to the cerebral cortex, the largest part of which (the neocortex) handled sensory perception, motor commands and spatial activity; it was also the portion of the brain affected by subliminal messages within images and videos.

This provided Chuck with a great opportunity to interact with many highly-skilled professionals with years of experience under their belts. Dr Leo Dreyfus, a former contractee of DARPA and his mentor on the subject of computational neuroscience and psychology, also mentioned rumors – mostly regarding top-secret experiments being conducted in the UK by DSTL – about attempts to enable non-vocal user-to-user communication on the battlefield by means of neural signal analysis. After some hacking and snooping around as Piranha, he managed to steal highly classified files and video clips on the subject of Brain-Brain interface.

Researchers linked the brains of two monkeys by surgically implanting electrodes inside their heads, in order to see whether it was possible for them to move a computer-simulated arm to a ball. They were placed in distant cages out of the other's sight and made to watch a shared video feed of a computer-generated arm on separate screens. One monkey controlled horizontal movement, the other controlled vertical movement, and a computer combined the brain signals from both monkeys to perform the task. Despite disparate control of the arm, the monkeys learned how to meld their brain signals together to consistently move the arm to the right spot. A three-dimensional variation of the experiment was subsequently conducted with three monkeys, which also proved successful.

After borrowing some of Ellie's books and having a few nice chats with her, Chuck finally came to understand why the Intersect was doomed to be a failure. Human brains, in contrast to those of animals, lacked the ability to learn generally applicable and generative representations of action between objects in a scene directly from visual inputs, and then reason over those learned representations. In short, they lacked visual intelligence. That was why humans upon whom subliminal memory retention experiments were conducted either fell into a permanent coma or turned into 'living zombies', as he labeled them. The only possible exceptions were those whose brains had a unique chemical makeup and a direct connection between short term and long term memory.

Like his, for instance.

He found General Beckman to be an attentive listener, but the fact his every word was being recorded for future reference didn't help with his anxiety. He wanted to get things over with, so he stretched his arms and fingers, then handled his wristwatch and pressed a button on the top. The time and date was replaced with the shorthand _NSF,_ displayed in grayish black on a green background. He connected the PDA to his watch with a cord, then entered the passcode. The system booted and CIPS sprang to life.

Accessing the directory, he scanned the drive and found a particularly large program. Its file name – _PSP_O6O9-CBKRP-SNK_ – brought an amused smile to his face, as it reminded him of his old dabblings in the dark web when he was studying in Stanford... then he took note of the last three letters.

_Soundless Knight? Wasn't that Bryce's hacker ID when he joined Anonymous for a few months?_

To the untrained eye, the program was a haphazard mixture of gibberish, letters, symbols and words. To Chuck, it was his language of choice, the one he understood above anything else. He marveled at the intricate code, but also recognized his father's signature in some of the strings of data.

"The program's encryption isn't that hard to break. However, there are some small flaws in the middle and in the last few lines, which makes it too volatile to run on any known platform." Chuck spoke out as he started correcting the flaws, which took him about fifteen minutes. Upon correction of the last flaw, the mass of code was replaced by a black screen, upon which the following words flashed:

_Terrible troll raises his sword_

Chuck's eyes widened in horror and disbelief. _You gotta be kidding me! _Yet again, he was confronted with a piece of his past. That prompt was from Zork, an old text-based game he and Bryce programmed back at Stanford using a TRS-80. First that program from Stanford, Bryce's hacker ID, and now this?

_Was this Anderson guy Bryce, by any chance? The similarities are starting to creep me out._

He never bothered to learn what Larkin had been up to lately. It wasn't like he couldn't have looked into his whereabouts; he just didn't want anything to do with that bastard. Not that he had any choice now. He needed to speak with the Admiral about this.

_Seriously! What were we thinking while making this game? This password is really stupid._

He typed the followed answer:

_Attack troll with a sharp knife_

The program mounted on CIPS, then a multitude of videos, audio clips and images began playing one after another in quick succession. Chuck grabbed his head in pain, as if Optimus Prime and Megatron were treating it like their personal timpani. Memories that didn't belong to him flooded through his mind, alongside fresh knowledge about certain subjects. It felt like he was seeing things through someone else's eyes, as if he had actually been to all these places.

That was strange. The sensations he experienced also bore similarities to those he felt when he found that watch... and yet... Chuck could tell this Intersect was a different beast, that it wasn't the same as what was already in his head.

Now that the slideshow on virtual steroids was over, he had to deal with a bad headache. Coupled with the brutal and relentless inquisition from Beckman he had to endure, these past couple of hours were some of the most intimidating and exhausting he'd ever lived.

After some initial trouble, Chuck was able to extract a few stills from the large file, which he displayed inside the glasses and the PDA.

"Interesting. What formats are you using right now?"

"I have been able to turn some of them back to purely uncompressed raw stills from video footage. CIPS uses an algorithm which is super exponential in the number of images 'cause it works better on the smaller search sizes. Ideally no more than hundreds or a few thousand."

"How long would it take for that to recover the Intersect, Mister Bartowski?"

Beckman didn't usually treat someone with that much respect, unless they happened to outrank her. The current situation was as far from normal as she ever expected it to get.

Chuck did some quick calculations in his head. "It really depends on the search size and the computer specs. The desktop we use in our office might be able to search a few hundred files under a second within our NGA branch's database. But the current version of CIPS... is only designed to work on a small search size. CIPS can still process these files as it's constantly learning from images, visuals, and audio files. The OS automatically generates identifying characteristics from the learning material and gives spontaneous results; however given the sheer amount of data it is most likely going through a major performance downgrade. I was working on an algorithm with larger search sizes but the project was going nowhere so I dedicated myself to other pursuits. Gosh... I dunno... If I get that right in a couple of months, I can optimize the whole database into something you can easily work on using a normal laptop. And if you want me to completely decompress the database after that point, I might be able to do that if a supercomputer with custom hardware is available."

If Beckman was surprised at hearing that, she didn't let it show. Chuck had no idea the NSA already had multiple supercomputers working in parallel and sequentially a few years back while creating the Intersect. They still took days to process incoming visuals. If this young man's wild claim was anywhere near accurate, it would be an incredible improvement. Besides, the implications of Chuck's CIPS were staggering. One of the greatest limitations of the Intersect computer was its immobility. That greatly limited incoming data to correlate against. A mobile Intersect which could be worn as a wristwatch or glasses would be immensely valuable.

Diane felt it in her guts. This kid was something. He could prove key to significantly advancing the NSA's interests. Hell, at this rate, he may even trump Orion one day – a huge deal, to be sure.

Beckman spoke first, placing a trio of manila folders on the desk. "Thanks for the presentation. In this folder you will find more specifications and remarks from the previous team who worked on the Intersect. Bear in mind, this is no ordinary assignment and we will have to place you under near-constant supervision for an indefinite period."

"Wait." Chuck interrupted. Damn, that headache really wasn't helping. "Why is that necessary? Why do I need to be under near-constant supervision? What's going on here?"

"Just being part of this project will paint a huge target on your back. There may be traitors or compromised members of staff embedded in our agencies. You may not know this Bartowski, but a few months back, one of our young and most promising engineers, who was part of the previous Intersect team, went missing. He was found dead a week later, having been tortured extensively. Putting you in a safe house would be more practical..." Casey trailed off, letting out a snort mixed with a grunt. No amusement or interest flickered in his eyes, not even the barest hint of appreciation of his efforts.

Chuck had met the older man only a few hours ago and was already building an understanding of the NSA agent's inclinations. Most of which he wasn't entirely comfortable with.

"This isn't fair." Chuck pleaded his case, incredibly disappointed and annoyed with the predicament he found himself in. "Are you saying I have to live in isolation just because I was trying to help you out with this PDA? Besides, I don't think my boss would allow it. I have, umm, some important stuff to do for the NGA."

Beckman's eyebrows twitched in irritation. It grated her that this gifted individual was working for another agency – as opposed to hers – in the first place. Furthermore, the nature of Bartowski's prediction (with limited resources) in relation to the ambush which resulted in the death of two dedicated agency personnel and theft of the next-gen tank schematics also merited thorough investigation. Michael's tenure as NGA Director would end in a few months and Chuck's NGA contract soon after that. If she played her cards right and managed to build trust between them, the NSA could swoop in and claim Chuck for themselves, making them truly unstoppable.

Casey did indeed raise a valid point, but antagonizing Chuck like that didn't seem like a great idea for the time being. Besides she was yet to fully convince Michael into handing over the technology, alongside its innovator, Bartowski himself. Knowing him, he might not take too kindly to Casey's harsh approach towards his star employee. Playing nice seemed like the wise choice. Besides she could already think of many possible ways to tempt Bartowski to their side without resorting to violence.

"You have done nothing wrong and it would not be appropriate to separate you from your current life. Rest assured, we will decide what to do after consulting with Admiral Kernan. You don't have to worry about that. Just focus on your work. What you are about to do will help our country in every way that we desire and more. I know it won't be easy, but it will be worth it." She remarked with a phony smile.

"Ma'am, with all due respect – as things currently stand, the moment Bartowski joins this project he will become a huge liability not only to himself but to everyone close to him. It's better to put him in a cushy government bunker where the intel and his skillset will remain safe." Casey growled under his breath though his tone softened a little towards the end. "The Agency will put in a good word. His family can visit him as long as they are willing to cooperate with the vetting process."

"Agent Casey, we don't need to put Charles under such duress for the time being. I believe agent supervision will suffice _for now_."

"Ugh!" Casey grunted. "Showing favoritism much, General?"

Chuck rolled his shoulders with a sigh. He was feeling a lot of things; anxiety, excitement, fear and nausea proclaimed war inside his head. Needless to say, he was a bit apprehensive before leaving the room.

He had no idea what he got himself into, but it couldn't be any worse than leaving Stanford in disgrace with a broken heart, right?

...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...

Director Langston Graham initiated the secure connection to a special division of DARPA at precisely 1500 hours. That precision he had was one of the early justifications for his rise to the top. He never left things to chance. That was the way he lived. It was only his order and precision which made the functioning of this agency possible. He expected this attitude from everyone, whether that individual was his most experienced agent or a mere janitor.

The instant a senior scientist's visage appeared on the monitor, he began speaking. "I have had discussions with top analysts from all agencies. They are at a loss to explain how Mr Carmichael was able to notice subtle changes in the frame and predict the ambush based on that."

"I have had discussions with some of my fellow peers as well. They all seemed to indicate that his feat was possible, though highly unlikely. There are several sciences to it. There are a select few individuals who can discover things which are invisible at most resolutions and break down the details of the visuals at a subconscious level. When put into use, one could deduce large amounts of information even if they had access to basically negligible amounts of data."

"Why haven't I heard of this before?" Graham frowned.

"This kind of situation is quite rare. One estimate is that only one among millions could do it. The vast majority of these individuals either suffer from a neurodevelopmental disorder such as autism spectrum disorder, or have a brain injury. They usually excel in skills related to memory. This may include rapid calculation, artistic ability, map making, or musical ability. So far we have managed to find only two subjects who had achieved such a feat despite not showing any signs of said mental disorders. One of them was Dr Hartley Winterbottom, a scientist working for DERA who is no longer among the living. The other hasn't been seen or heard ever since he purged his personal records and went on the run. We only refer to him by his code name: Orion." The lead scientist replied with a pause. "Is there anything else you would like to know, Director?"

"Not now. Make sure this stays between us."

"Yes, Sir. I will keep that in mind if the NSA decides to inquire into this matter."

Graham nodded, a ghost of grimace crossing his face as he cut the connection.

At this point, Graham was certain the Admiral was picking his words carefully when he went to see him. It was this kind of lack of inter-agency cooperation the Intersect project was supposed to thwart, not instigate.

Spies, and spymasters by extension, were naturally very protective of any information they possessed, especially when it was deemed sensitive. Such inclinations were forged by years of experience and couldn't be erased on a whim. Michael was no different. Graham could see through most people, agents included, because of a prolonged career he spent under the intense scrutiny of others and the harsh training he went through. Unfortunately, the Admiral was not like most people – his mental book remained closed to him. Sure, he seemed a bit defensive in regards to Bartowski; however, his actual feelings still eluded him. Something which baffled him to no end.

Graham knew George Fleming very well, despite him not being fully affiliated with the CIA. He was more of an independent contractor; working at various times for the NSA and military, and as part of the Omaha Project at the CIA's behest. It was his responsibility to review the test results of all Omaha candidates nationwide. There were even rumors that his contracts had dried up due to his alleged connections with shadier organizations. Something that Larkin might have taken advantage of with regard to the framing of Chuck Bartowski.

However, Graham forgave their past transgressions – Fleming, because he recruited Bryce to the agency; Bryce, because his achievements led to the CIA's acquisition of significant funding and control of the Interest project. Which kept the agency ahead of their main rivals (such as the NSA). With Bryce going out as a disgraced traitor thereafter, funding and project control was once more up for grabs.

However, he recalled a quote one of his base camp instructors often used back in the day. _Opportunity often comes disguised in the form of misfortune, or temporary defeat._ In any case, he had already wasted precious time, resources and people on the project, so cutting his losses wasn't an option. He would fight tooth and nail to keep the project within the aegis of the CIA if he had to.

The door to his office opened, revealing a beautiful young blonde wearing a pencil skirt. She really wanted to decompress and enjoy her day off, but she had been ordered to return to Langley. Her reputation had taken a hit once news of Brian's betrayal broke out, forcing her to deal with a lot of crap and a mightily stringent vetting process. As if that wasn't enough, Graham gave her a below-the-belt assignment which required her acquiescence to a handler by the name of Kieran Ryker.

Sarah found the whole affair quite infuriating. It was demeaning for someone of her skill set and service record to be assigned a handler. However, Graham claimed his hands were tied as OIG had gotten involved, so it would be a while until they issued a ruling on her innocence or guilt with respect to Larkin's betrayal. Sarah was reluctant at first, but she wanted to prove herself to the CIA; at the end of the day she had no choice but to accept this petty assignment. Ryker sent Sarah on a mission to extract a package from a group of gangsters. It was like child's play; like with other missions of this kind, she infiltrated the enemy base with little to no difficulty, leaving a trail of dead bodies in her wake.

The trouble started when she actually reached the package.

A living, breathing package.

Specifically, a two month-old girl, born to a family of wealthy bankers who had been slain by the gangsters she killed. And now the girl was the sole heir to an immense fortune.

Sarah sensed something was amiss about the mission. Ryker had rubbed her the wrong way when they met; after running her own investigation she uncovered some disturbing truths. Dissatisfied by his work within the CIA, Ryker himself hired those gangsters to kill the girl's family. After the deed was done, he manipulated the Agency into doing his bidding and authorize the mission she carried out, ultimately hoping to claim the girl's fortune for himself. He made himself scarce and went off-grid, knowing she'd come after him when she learned of his machinations.

_I will get him. Sooner or later._

When she informed Graham he insisted the girl be taken go into protective custody to protect her fortune, but Sarah couldn't bring herself to agree with his reasoning. She wanted the girl to have the life she herself didn't have, to be seen as a real human being and not a golden ticket. Such was her belief that she lied to her own mentor. She outfoxed the old fox and reluctantly gave the child to her mother, who successfully finished her rehab and had been sober for the last five years. No one besides her father knew about her mother. Her parents had gone through so many aliases that even the CIA couldn't keep track of them all.

Despite the moral victory, it did little for her reputation even though she ousted Ryker as a traitor. She was in need of some company (though not as much after running into certain someone in club yesterday) , and the man she put her faith in... her partner / lover... had disappeared from her life. They had been partners for one and a half years, had suffered numerous injuries and testing situations together. Standing in Graham's office made her realize once again that Bryce was truly gone. A truth that she had been trying to avoid for a while, though it didn't show on her face or in her stance. Of all the agents working in the Agency, she was one of the best at hiding herself. Heck, she was one of the best at almost everything. Which was the reason Graham put up with all of the other things that went along with her.

"Agent Walker, you are the only agent I have on hand whom I can trust completely. You know how Agent Brian went off the grid four months ago and there were indications that he turned rogue two months later?"

There was a slight hitch in Sarah's voice. She didn't like where this was going at all. "Uh, yes Sir?"

"We can now say for sure that he was a traitor. He broke into a DNI secure facility yesterday and stole each and every scrap of data from the Intersect computer. Larkin was somehow able to get hold of a highly advanced program which helped him to compress the entire database into a manageable file. Something he transferred to his PDA, for crying out loud. He then proceeded to blow up the entire room housing that information and tried to escape, before he was shot dead by an NSA agent."

"Oh! Bria-I mean Larkin is… _dead_?"

"Ah...I nearly forgot you asked for his files when he disappeared. I guess you now know who he used to be before we bought him him. Good for you, I guess. You might need that information to deal with this assignment. And, Yes, John Casey shot him in the chest and took possession of the PDA. I have no doubt that General Beckman has already assigned him to the ongoing project. The ball is in their court now." Graham let the sentence hang, not able to help the sigh which escaped.

"So are they trying to create their own Intersect from scratch?"

"Luckily for us, they're currently unable to access that intel. But there are rumors about an engineer from the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency, who has been developing technology which can utilize and access the data inside that PDA. I don't have solid information on who this individual is but I believe a certain analyst stands out from the crowd. If you can bring this individual to our side and we get a hold of this technology before the NSA, the CIA will finally have a direct say on who gets access to this data going forward, and when. I want you to recruit this analyst to our team as soon as possible, before the NSA beats us to the punch."

"Oh God! You are absolutely right, Sir! We still have some time left. If we get our hands on this technology we may yet salvage our position. I'll get right on it."

"Sarah, one more thing before you go. This operation needs to be handled with the utmost discretion. This individual is a government civilian, not a professional, so play nice. Michael is an old golfing buddy of mine. Even though we may not see eye to eye on many issues, the last thing I want is to start a pissing contest with him. Do you understand your orders, Agent Walker?"

"Yes Sir, crystal clear!"

Sarah looked back at him for a long moment, before picking up a half inch-thick maroon folder on the desk containing the mission brief. Laying face up, written in bold at the very bottom of the file was:

_C.I.B_

_...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxxx..._

Sitting at his work table, Vul Andric typed away as he was intent on finishing his special project in time. He straightened his glasses every time an anomaly shown on the screen was not applicable or useful.

"I really hate this world." Andric muttered, shaking his head. "It's up to me to change it... with an explosion."

He pressed ENTER on the keyboard and several outlines of what appeared to be a laptop and cellphone were shown.

Andric smiled at his progress.

"Now all that's needed is a little editing." With a few clicks the image was broadened to reveal the exterior of the laptop.

"Let's go with C4 instead of NG."


	12. Chapter 12

**Flashback, A few months after the "Fateful" meeting at the Bartowski household**

_"Patterns, numbers, loops." Chuck blew air from his puffed cheeks, idly fiddling with the wristwatch in one hand whilst the other twirled his pen around. His mind drifted off as he leaned against the tree he sat next to in the NIU grounds, his current assignment almost forgotten by his side._

_Admiral Kernan's words still lingered in his thoughts, even though it had been days since their first meeting._

_"I guess you don't truly understand the gift you have been given. That's understandable, since you're still inexperienced. Let me clear it up for you – you hold inside your head a tool, a weapon. Possibly one of the most potent to ever exist in the history of mankind."_

_Since then, Chuck had many things to consider. Yes, being rightfully awarded his Stanford degree and salvaging most of his reputation as a result was cause for celebration. Yes, it was somewhat cool to have a supercomputer which allowed to him to basically do anything on a whim, whether it was performing heart surgery or picking locks with a paperclip; though honestly, gaining said skiil sets wasn't important to him._

_What __was__ important to him – what had him worried – was that if anyone were to learn of his situation and figure out his father's identity, it would have grave repercussions for Ellie, Devon, and anyone else he was close to. Michael said as much while informing him about the Intersect. That he would be a game changer sometime in the future, so it wouldn't be a huge leap in logic to assume he'd encounter some unfriendly individuals down the road._

_Chuck let out a sigh of misery and started rubbing his temples. Sure, he was a smart guy, but he wasn't a super genius like his dad. He was so far out of his depth where the Intersect was concerned that it wasn't funny._

_"Problems in paradise, Chuck~?" A lilting voice called out to him._

_Chuck blinked in confusion as he found Lou sitting beside him. Their elbows were brushing together, such was their proximity._

_"Geez, Lieutenant. You really scared the crap out of me for a moment. Are you a ninja or something?"_

_"Me, a ninja?" Lou laughed it off. "Do I look like the sort to dress up in orange and shout, "Believe it" all the time?"_

_"Is there anything I can do for you, Lieutenant?" Chuck asked, smoothing himself over in an effort to be courteous then deciding it wouldn't do him any good if he went all out._

_"That's a bit harsh Bartowski, don't you think?" The beautiful brunette smiled. She didn't seem uncomfortable in the slightest._

_Shit!__ Chuck was fighting a battle with himself in an effort to stay calm and composed in her presence. It was a pretty hard feat, considering she was the most beautiful woman he ever laid his eyes upon... well... since Sarah Walker from Harvard. It was even harder not to let his eyes wander down. And she obviously knew it since she was baiting him into looking, be it with the coy tilt of her head, the touch of smugness in her lips, or the way she subtly leaned towards him._

_On reflection, thinking back to all those times that he has seen her around, this was probably just her natural state of being._

_Still, Chuck refused to acknowledge that, partly because he was rather curious about why a woman like her was even remotely interested in striking a conversation with him; partly because he was just being himself and didn't want to make this situation more comfortable only for himself, because there was simply no way Lou Palone wasn't used to being stared at, looking like she did._

_"I believe in you, Lou. A badass federal agent with super-secret martial art skills like you should be able to handle this much." Chuck said in the most nonchalant manner he could possibly muster. He cracked a bit – he was no Cole Barker or Bryce Larkin – but he was pretty proud of himself for how he dealt with the situation thus far._

_"You love being sarcastic, don't you Chuck?" She asked casually, holding an arm out, a single leaf falling into her palm. She blew onto it gently, sending it flying away._

_"I picked it up somewhere along the way." Chuck shrugged._

_"Oh really?" She raised a eyebrow in curiosity. "I thought you were always this cool."_

_"Yeah, that's me. Chuck Bartowski, the dashing Jedi Knight in sour armor from LA, at your service." Chuck's lips twitched._

_Lou laughed, and Chuck could see she would have been highly sought after during her college days. "You may not believe me, but I find you easy to talk to." She glanced to the side, her eyes soft. "It's a bit weird, but we are alike in more ways than we are unlike. Just like you, I used to have a friend, a teammate, a comrade. Someone whom I trusted with everything. Even with my life. But that lying... two-faced... backstabbing bitch... She took everything that I was, everything I am, and crushed it all under her heel. I was top of the batch, probably one of the best agents out there in the field. But everything changed when I was framed by someone, whom I considered a dear friend, of a heinous crime that I wouldn't commit even in my wildest dreams. And now that bitch's lies have turned me into nothing but a glorified placeholder!" She suddenly shouted, throwing an arm to the side while the other was placed on her chest. She laughed bitterly, letting her forehead rest against her hands. "I am sorry, Chuck. I feel embarrassed... to have unloaded all that on you. I guess that outburst made you look down on me a bit, right?"_

_"It's fine. I don't mind." Chuck said immediately. "I mean... I understand. Well, not really, but I think I understand you a bit better now. And I won't ever look down on the graceful and poised Lou just because of something like that. In fact, knowing about something like that makes you even more amazing in my eyes."_

_It was against his nature to be that open with a pretty woman, especially after the whole Jill and Bryce fiasco. Nonetheless, he convinced himself the semi-regular contact he had with her was enough justification for what he was doing right now. Their relationship was usually Lou complaining to him about paperwork – the bane of her existence – whenever she found him sitting late around the campus, when he wasn't at the library or working on his projects._

_Lou paused. Surprise latched on her entire being, from the widening of her eyes, to the small 'o' her mouth formed. Gradually, her lips shifted into a satisfied smile, her eyes shone, and – to Chuck's disbelief – she also blushed._

_"Thank you, Chuck. Those words mean a lot to me."_

_"A-ah." Chuck scratched the back of his head nervously. "I said something strange, didn't I?"_

_"Ufufu. No it wasn't." Lou shook her head, continuing with a teasing smile. "Hearing you say something like that... You are surprisingly weak when being praised, aren't you?"_

_Chuck rolled his eyes in response. "Feh, whatever. You still haven't answered my original question."_

_"Well..." She hummed. "You looked like you had a lot on your mind. And as your superior, I should help you to speak your mind."_

_Chuck blinked as he stared at her, a sudden question popping up in his head. "Superior? Seriously, are you really trying to pull rank on me?"_

_"Yup. Just because I can. You are just a student on this campus while I am a fully-fledged DIA agent." She repeated in a semi-serious tone, though her lips twitched, betraying a smile. "So, what were you ever so dramatic about just now, Chuck?"_

_"I wasn't that bad." Chuck protested. "I was just thinking about... stuff." He hurriedly changed words at the last moment, glancing at his watch again. "It's just not... something I can share with anyone."_

_"Ah... stuff." Lou's smile widened and Chuck flushed a bit, turning his head away from her. It didn't help as much as he hoped. He could practically feel her gaze on him. "Such a deep topic, Chuck. Care to share?"_

_"Ha ha." Chuck deadpanned. "Just some private things, I suppose. You understand, right?"_

_"Yes." Lou said softly. "I do."_

_A brief moment of silence passed between them, neither willing to break it as they returned to their own thoughts. Lou stood up, brushing non-existent dirt off her clothes._

_"Well, it's been fun talking to you Chuck, but I have an appointment today, and I can't afford to miss it. No sense in tarnishing my already non-existent reputation, even if it's for LA's dashing Jedi Knight in sour armor." She winked at him, strapping her DIA ID badge around her neck. While she carefully covered the front, he could clearly see the initials Z and R engraved on the back of it. Chuck rolled his eyes, a small smile emerging on his lips. "I know you'll miss me, but please bear with it."_

_"I'm sure I'll live." Chuck retorted dryly. He took hold of a dense reference book he had been carrying inside his backpack and held it up. "I have much to distract myself with anyway. Don't let me hold you up!"_

_Chuck felt her stare lingering on him for a little while longer before she went back to what he assumed was the office she was stationed at._

_He looked up the cloudless sky, thinking it had been a very interesting day so far._

_...xxxxx...xxxxx...xxxxxxxxx..._

Dr Jonas Zarnow couldn't believe what he was seeing. To find who he was looking for on random security footage was a sheer stroke of luck. There was the NGA engineer he had been tasked to find, beside none other than the infamous John Casey as they walked out of the conference room.

Now... how should he approach the situation? Mr. Roark had made it very clear he wanted the engineer and technology under his thumb as soon as possible. With that in mind, Zarnow needed to speak with this young man quietly and privately. And very soon. Time was running out for both of them.

...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

Zarnow stood outside the gates of Ft Meade, right at the spot where John Casey presumably dropped the young man off before driving elsewhere. However, he was still saddled with the insurmountable task of finding a needle in a haystack. His target – who likely wouldn't stick out by himself – was even harder to spot from within a sea of visitors. But Zarnow was close. He wouldn't give up.

A couple of minutes later, he finally spotted him. Zarnow had to be quick as he followed the young man walking along a street, noticing that he was staggering and holding his head rather tightly... before he fell against the wall, struggling to stay on his feet.

"Oh no!" Zarnow gasped. He immediately rushed towards the young man, grabbing him. "Are you alright?"

Chuck was in a daze, gasping. For some reason, his heart was beating rapidly, tingles were felt throughout his body, he was trembling uncontrollably, he was sweating profusely, his throat felt tight, his muscles were contracting and relaxing rapidly, over and over...

_Damn it! Why does it feel like I'm dying?!_

Zarnow lifted him up and sat him in a nearby bench. Then he dug into the young man's backpack and found a laptop, a wristwatch and a simple notebook. He flipped through the notebook and noted it contained page upon page of various equations and mathematical formulae, not to mention theories and hypotheses. It was clear this man was nothing short of intelligent.

_So he is a man of science, like me._ Zarnow suddenly remembered why he was there in the first place and spoke to the young man.

"Listen to me. Can you hear me? Are you listening?"

Chuck's eyes remained closed and sweat continued to pour down his face, soaking his hair. Then suddenly, he spoke in a monotonous voice which didn't belong to him.

"Dr Jonas Zarnow. NSA specialist in brain research. Has access to highly classified materials. Has been selling secrets to the Chinese since 2005."

Zarnow immediately paled in shock and horror, whilst the notebook fell from his now lifeless hands. He could not believe what he was hearing.

"Main leak behind the Guangzhou disaster of '05. Affiliated with FULCRUM."

Chuck swallowed hard, feeling his consciousness returning to him and the strange symptoms beginning to dissipate.

"I am starting to feel better, really."

He then composed himself and stood back on his feet whilst shaking his head. He turned to the middle-aged man, who appeared to be completely gobsmacked. As if he had seen a ghost.

"Hiya! Is there anything I can do for you?" Chuck politely asked as he gathered the contents of his backpack and zipped it back up.

Zarnow couldn't believe his eyes. There was no way in hell he had forgotten all those things he uttered moments ago. Unless...

_Is he... But... Surely that's not possible!_

"You have to come with me." Zarnow pressed on. "There is something seriously wrong with you. I need to examine you as soon as possible. We have a medical research floor in the NSA. You will be treated free of charge."

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about but I have a bus to catch." Chuck frowned and before Zarnow could utter another word, he was already out of earshot, leaving the scientist to ponder all that he had witnessed. A panic attack, foaming at the mouth, a high fever, that strange manner of speaking... he was familiar with these symptoms, having witnessed them on test subjects in Meadow Branch. The engineer, in contrast to the aforementioned subjects, had immediately recovered and was (at least partially) none the wiser as to what just happened.

Zarnow feared for the young man's safety and sanity. It seemed that his brain had been affected by the Government Intersect; to what extent was unclear right now. He needed to be treated while he still had the chance, otherwise these symptoms would only worsen with time. This wasn't over yet, not even close.

Mr Roark had to be informed.

...xxxxx...xxxxx...

To be honest, the whole meeting with the General felt rather uneventful as if half the day was nothing more than a blur to him. Everything seemed trapped in the haze ever since he corrected the code on that damned rogue agent's PDA. Like he was walking around in a thick fog. He did a special breathing exercise Leo taught him back at the research facility which helped him calm down during panic attacks like this.

He reached up for his watch and groped for a button. A small light projected a virtual keyboard on the surface. Coughing heavily, Chuck entered a few commands and suddenly felt a jolt of electricity entering his nerves, like a pulse. Immediately, the visuals returned to his field of vision, swarming him for a few moments before he felt the loud ringing inside his head slowly fade into the background, allowing him to concentrate once again. His sight-lines cleared up as he started feeling better. He looked down at the watch before smiling, clicking the button once again to close the virtual keyboard before getting back on his feet.

Thankfully, it was nowhere near as bad as the first time he found the watch all those years ago. He almost felt he was going to be perfectly alright. However he knew that something changed inside his head after he answered the Zork prompt. Whether the code triggered something inside his brain or the old Intersect inside his head was reacting to something he had recently seen... He couldn't put his finger on it. But he could tell whatever happened to him was abnormal. He also had an inkling it had to do with his deadbeat super genius absentee father and / or the one and only Bryce Fucking Larkin. They were the only two people in the entire freaking universe who could make him feel like more of a wuss than he already did.

Either way, Chuck was pissed. Today had taken a turn for the worse ever since that Casey guy dragged him all the way here without warning. The damned prick hadn't offered any sort of apology for suggesting Chuck be sequestered inside a bunker, isolating him from his friends and family for an insurmountable amount of time. Furthermore, instead of offering him a ride back, he drove Chuck to the front gate and dropped him off. As if he was a garbage bag ready to be thrown into a dumpster, as opposed to a fellow government employee and a brilliant programmer who probably saved Uncle Sam millions of dollars by decrypting and extracting the very important database from that PDA.

Feh. People like that awoke his inner Darth Vader.

_No ride back to Ft Belvoir. Is he for real? I am still very grateful his boss didn't agree with his crazy ideas but it wasn't like I deliberately meant to show him up in front of General Beckman. Damn__! At __this rate I'll never make it back to my place in time._

Chuck continued his forty-minute walk to the bus station, from where he could get the line 504 bus to Odenton MARC station. He felt worse and worse with each passing second – like a bubbling cauldron of anger, frustration and annoyance, approaching the boiling point. He initially believed being presented with an opportunity to actually work on the government's Intersect would have a positive effect. But ever since that meeting with the General, he couldn't help but feel an ominous pressure building inside him.

_Why did I stick my nose where it didn't belong?_ He actually regretted decoding the strange program, ever since terms such as _agent supervision_ and _bunker_ entered the conversation. He was pretty content with deconstructing the one inside his head and had, to this point, managed to get a basic gist of what that was about. He also had high hopes for his program on three-dimensional textured subliminal imagery, which was currently halfway done. In order to fit the final pieces of the puzzle, he needed to get some pointers from an expert specializing in mapping the human brain's cognitive and spatial functions.

After that, suppressing the computer inside his head or creating another one like it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Unfortunately, such people were hard to find. Sure, talking with his sister helped as she was quite gifted in that regard, but even she still had many things left to learn. Which meant he hadn't made as much progress in the last six months as he initially hoped to.

It wasn't long before he realized he was at the bus stop, all alone. No other person was in plain sight, let alone a vehicle passing by. There was nothing.

"What a surprise!" He muttered dryly and sighed at the same time, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

He looked up at the graying sky, where a sliver of sunlight still poked through. He then mentally spoke to the high heavens. _I understand you and I don't blame you. I blame myself for being this way. Despite all the amazing abilities and knowledge I've gained, I'm still the plain old me. _He shrugged and rolled his eyes, then sat on the bench and let himself wallow in self-pity.

A blaring car horn brought him back to reality. He focused his gaze on the stylish sky-blue car in front of him.

"Hey lost puppy! Remember me?" The enthusiastic driver said. She had blonde hair which seemed to radiate like pure gold.

"Sarah Walker?" Chuck blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"Waiting for the bus." Chuck pointed to the road opposite where Sarah came from. "Nice car by the way."

Sarah paused for a moment before she spoke again.

"We really have a knack of running into each other in unusual situations." She responded with an amused smile.

"What do you mean by that?" Chuck asked, dumbfounded.

"Never mind. Why don't you hop in? This may take a while to elaborate." She grinned coquettishly. He could tell something was off about her today. She gave him a really cute and innocent look. However, he got the feeling, for the first time since he met her, that she might have some ulterior motives this time around. He wondered if that was just his paranoia acting up.

"Thanks Sarah." Chuck said with a casual smile as he got in. The car got back on the move once he settled in. "It's very nice of you."

"It's the least I can do for a friend." She moved closer to him, slowly sliding her fingers across the edge of his shoulders before ruffling his slightly disheveled hair and whispered into his ears. "Besides, I hope you're willing to extend the same courtesy to me, Mr Golden Boy."

The sound of her husky, melodic voice triggered a sensation that felt somewhat familiar. And at the same time, unusual; it was the first time he felt it during an Intersect flash. The pounding in his head beat to a faster rhythm while he began seeing bytes of data interwoven with different red-tinted pictures floating in front of his mind's eye, all pertaining to a certain woman he met at Harvard many years ago.

_Gecko_

_Semi-automatic pistol_

_Her picture and classified records, most of it blacked out_

_Top secret red tab psych file_

_Killsheet with thirty confirmed official kills_

_Mission reports_

_Digital radio_

_Gecko_

The sensation stopped as abruptly as it began.

"Hey, Chuck. Are you there?" Sarah asked, her voice carrying a note of concern as she reached out for his shoulders, only for Chuck to recoil slightly as he tried not to look at her directly. His reaction (along with the fear and shock that emerged on his face) worried her a bit; she was unsure if smiling at him again would put him at ease or exacerbate his unease.

Whilst still reeling from the side effects, Chuck more or less figured out what happened back at the presentation. The perfect formation of three-dimensional images containing all that information had ended up in his brain. Despite being somewhat freaked out, Chuck was still amazed that someone could write a program of that complexity. He was also aware the associated code had given him knowledge on Sarah, information that he had never seen before. It was the kind of information people would will or were killed for.

Ironically, the original purpose of the Intersect program (jointly led by his father and Dr Winterbottom) was to improve memory retention for individuals who had suffered brain trauma. The primary issue they faced was that only a select few were capable of detecting anomalies inside the interwoven data. Theoretically, more people should have been able to retain and recollect all the information, but that wasn't the case.

What scared him was that Intersect technology wasn't supposed to be utilized for the nefarious purpose of coding shady government secrets, like those in relation to his companion. And right now, a certain number of them (at least from what he could tell) were in his head.

He could only groan at that inwardly. If there were angels keeping an eye on him... chances were they'd be laughing their heads off.

Sarah Walker was a known CIA black ops agent and an ace shot as per her secret CIA records. Her beauty was probably in direct proportion to how dangerous she actually was. He always considered himself a pretty good judge of character, although Bryce and Jill's betrayals suggested otherwise. Right now though, he was rather confused about to how to react to the situation. All his knowledge of the woman next to him kinda made him anxious but at the same time, he used to date someone who was in the special ops business. It felt so surreal that Chuck felt like he was losing his mind.

"Um, yes, sorry. I'm sorry... I tried a mild sedative and I guess it's a bit too strong for my taste. No harm, no foul. Just a little migraine to add to my growing collection. I mean, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Chuck could tell he was babbling and stopped talking before he embarrassed himself any further. Finally looking up, he gave her a reassuring smile, grateful for all the training he received at Ft Bragg which allowed him to gain some semblance of control over his emotions.

While Chuck's behavior confused her at first, his babbling put her somewhat at ease. She figured that he was just a little bit embarrassed by her mild flirting. Knowing him, even after five long years, he wasn't used to talking to women. Which was a shame, considering he was rather cute. She wondered if Bryce was looking down from whenever he was and laughing at the irony of her situation. She could either make amends for her personal mistakes by telling him everything about Stanford and explain the whole Mr and Mrs Anderson affair to him, or make amends for Bryce's professional one by convincing Chuck to help the CIA recover the stolen data. She eventually wanted to do both and she dreaded both of their outcomes.

It was basically a lose-lose situation for her. She really hoped that Chuck would be able to understand her intentions and look past the fact that she accidently/unknowingly ended up dating the very same man who nearly destroyed his career and stole his fiance.

_There is no going back now. I have to take this chance._

"Oh, perhaps you will feel better after a cup of coffee. I know the best cafe in the area." She said in a cheerful tone.

"Sure... Why not?" Chuck nodded after a brief moment of hesitation. Though slightly uncertain, he was sure enough that the code was written by his father, or someone who knew the Intersect as intimately as he did. And somehow, through sheer misfortune he not only managed to figure out how to extract that information, but also unintentionally uploaded it into his brain. Which is something people would kill or were killed for – and yes, that point was worth repeating as many times as necessary. A spy went rogue in order to get it and died while attempting to steal it, after all. He knew he was in over his head. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do right now was stay alone. Sarah may be dangerous but at least she was one of the good guys. And a friend as well. As long as he pretended to not know about her... background, everything world be fine. He hoped.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxx...

Zarnow didn't feel comfortable sharing what transpired an hour ago. As far as he was concerned, he couldn't trust anyone inside FULCRUM with such valuable information. So he kept it under wraps and would to deliver the news to Roark himself, once he arrived at the RI building that evening.

"Mr. Roark, Sir!" Zarnow greeted as he barged into his office with haste.

Roark wasn't thrilled with this act, but he was willing to let it slide as it appeared some good news was forthcoming. "You found the engineer."

"Yes." Zarnow nodded.

Roark was pleasantly surprised. "Ah, see? I knew you would be..."

"I didn't get his name or address." Zarnow stated, regrettably.

If Roark could predict the exact moment of his demise, this would be it. He felt it coming; a vicious heart attack. There was no way the RING Elders would let this slide.

"I don't know who, or where he is. But I watched him suffer a severe panic attack and fall unconscious, like our test subjects at Meadow Branch. However, the moment he heard my voice, something triggered inside him and he uttered top secret details about me and our organization, without even being consciously aware of doing so in the first place."

Roark had to sit down for a moment, had to allow his mind to process this new knowledge. The engineer worked on Larkin's PDA and ended up with some highly sensitive info about Zarnow and their operations. Information that even Larkin didn't have access to during his tenure with their organization. This was a step closer to the Human Intersect program, something Roark had never been able to accomplish before.

"I must know who that individual is." Roark said, his mind spinning. "Who he is screwing up with, who is screwing up with him; I need it all immediately."

"All we have is the security camera footage of John Casey escorting him from the conference room. It's barely noticeable." Zarnow added. "That I even caught it was a perfect miracle. I already went ahead and sent the feed to our analysts."

"Good job, Zarnow." Roark praised. "Now this is what you are going to do: You are going to find this individual and bring him here before the CIA and NSA put two and two together."

"I don't think it'll be that easy." Zarnow responded. "Besides, they might already have someone watching him."

"Zarnow. This young man – assuming he is okay after being affected by the Government Intersect and this trend of recalling top secret information through various triggers continues – may very well be the key to FULCRUM's future success. He could be the weapon that eliminates all of my opposition. You will find this young man and bring him to us at any cost."

"And if I am unable?" Zarnow asked, gathering every ounce of defiance left in his body.

"Let's not think that far ahead." With a vicious smile, Roark patted Zarnow on his shoulders. Which proved to be an effective threat, considering it undoubtedly forced his mind to wander to some very dark places.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...


	13. Chapter 13

**Flashback, One and Half Years Ago.**

**Fort Bragg. USASOC**

_As usual, Chuck was having lunch by himself, next to the tree which overlooked the Ft Bragg campus. It was a pretty good day overall; the sun shone brightly without a cloud in sight. He stopped to think before taking another bite. An image of the previous day's events, especially when Lou kissed him out of nowhere appeared in his mind._

_"I nearly lost myself in that kiss. That woman is HOT as hell." Chuck shook his head and covered his mouth. His tongue still couldn't stop simulating the sensation he felt the day before._

_"Ah, a woman's ability to pursue others with her beauty is a passive one; but when it's intentional, it's impossible to break away from such divine figures." A voice said from behind._

_"No shit. I was practically falling for... Huh?! What the hell are you doing here, Professor Montgomery?" Chuck's eyes widened in realization as he noticed a grey-haired man decked in G-man attire standing in front of him, staring at him in amusement. He looked calm and collected, and seemed to have a distinguished air about him._

_"Please, call me Roan. I hate it when people call me Professor Montgomery." The old man chuckled and sat down beside Chuck, to the latter's utter displeasure. "Now what's this about you kissing someone?"_

_Chuck grit his teeth. He knew he couldn't afford to anger Roan Montgomery, who for all intents and purposes was one of the most senior and respected instructors in Ft Bragg. He wished he could say no and just tell him to get lost, but he had failed his class three times in a row. That was a problem since the Admiral had issued an ultimatum – either Chuck passed said class this year, or he would be shipped to a new location to start all over again._

_He didn't get it. Why the hell did this man constantly give him a failing grade?_

_"It's about a girl. I don't know if... she's trying to seduce me so she can take advantage of my I... um, situation."_

_Roan paused thoughtfully before replying once again._

_"There might be another reason for her interest in you."_

_"Such as?" Chuck asked out of curiosity._

_"She wants to be loved." Roan responded matter-of-factly._

_"(COUGH)! AHK! (CHOKE)! WHA-ACK!" The mere suggestion made Chuck choke on his lunch._

_"Get real, Pro- I mean, Roan!" Chuck shook his head and drank from his Thermos. He wasn't in denial but he believed whatever relationship / partnership they had was temporary. For someone like Lou to develop feelings for him, he must have done something spectacular. "I really have no idea why she would see me __that way__. It's not like she ever..." Roan could easily see Chuck was now fishing for a reason._

_The seasoned spy sighed in response._

_"Bartowski, you really are naive to a fault. No wonder you keep failing my class."_

_"Huh?" Chuck asked, dumbfounded._

_"From what I have seen and experienced, people always look for someone who can accept and cherish them for what they are. They can be easily influenced by you if you make them believe that's who you are. Someone who meets their ideals, completes their shortcomings or just gives them the feeling of being cared for. Perhaps this lady found one or more of these qualities in you. Humorously enough, I have yet to find the perfect answer for the being known as woman." Roan responded sagely as he stared at the cloudless sky._

_"So what does that have to do with my situation?" Chuck asked._

_"There is no simple answer. It is up to you to draw that conclusion yourself. She may have feelings for you now, or she may develop them later. It can only be determined over the course of time." Roan explained in a nonchalant manner, causing Chuck to frown a bit considering how apathetic the old man seemed._

_"Is everything just so... black and white for people like you?" Chuck wasn't sure if he could agree with such logic or not._

_"Depends."_

_"On what?" Chuck asked with a raised eyebrow._

_"You really want it to make sense? Or can you accept that it doesn't have to?" Roan asked quizzingly._

_"...Huh. I never thought about it that way." Chuck tried his best to interpret what the seasoned spy was trying to convey to him. "I guess having a crush can't be quantified. And if you try too hard to make sense of it, it's not really loving, is it?"_

_"Indeed. You may be a bit on the slow side but I finally made you understand what seduction is all about in essence." Roan responded with a proud smile._

_"Again, why must you make everything into such a roundabout debate?" Chuck's eyebrows twitched in irritation._

_"A great teacher knows what's good in getting the right answer if you don't know how you reached it." Roan responded with a dramatic flair as he stood up and left with a friendly wave._

_"You cop out, son-of-a... There was no answer. It's just a feeling." Chuck cursed under his breath, realizing that at the end of the day, the old man didn't help at all._

_If only he could call Ellie and ask for advice..._

_Flashback End_

...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

_Breathe in, Charles__. __Only a couple of hours till I make it back to the NGA and ask the Admiral to sort out the NSA situation. Besides, who's afraid of hanging out with ace assassins? I like playing my life in hard mode anyways._

"So what are we doing here, Sarah?" He asked the beautiful agent accompanying him, privately even more intimidated by her than he previously was but didn't let it show on his face. Finally all those sessions on Neuro Linguistic Programming (a catchy name for a class which taught "Sneaky ways to influence people" in reality) which nearly made him rip his ears off finally paid off.

"Hmm? I did ask you to help me try out the menu in a cafe a friend recommended, didn't I?" Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're reneging on our deal so soon?" She continued in a mock upset tone.

"I already agreed, didn't I?" Chuck pointed out. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you will somehow make it even worse for me if I don't agree, so might as well take the lesser of two evils." He concluded in a somewhat jovial tone, hoping it disguised the fact he was being serious.

"Good boy." Sarah approved with a playful smile, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Glad to see that even after all these years, you haven't lost your sense of humor in the slightest."

"Gallows humor is the only thing that keeps you sane in the chaotic world we live in." Chuck stated matter-of-factly.

"I dunno much about that Chuck, because I am clearly not funny."

"Is that what you were trying to hide, by the way? 'Cause I've spent a long time trying to figure out what went wrong with you."

"Oh, plenty. Believe me!" Sarah piped up causing him to raise his eyebrow.

Shaking his head, he responded in a casual, joking tone, "And I was thinking either she was replaced by a cyborg sent from the future to eliminate me, or she's just _not that funny anymore_." His newfound knowledge of Sarah's current occupation put him in a tough spot and made him question everything he knew about her. So when she gave him the opening he was looking for, he took it, figuring her response would give him a glimpse of her true personality.

Though Sarah probably found it even more hilarious, due to how serious he looked while saying those things.

Sarah twisted away to muffle her own laughter. It was genuine, full-throated laughter too; Chuck had no idea a consummate spy / ace assassin of her caliber was even capable of such in the first place. He felt his inhibitions and defenses lower, which he didn't mind much (to his surprise). In fact, he felt his confidence bolstered as time went by. He begrudgingly conceded that he missed this feeling, not having felt it since his relationship with Lou ended.

"Not a cyborg, that much I can promise." Sarah retorted playfully, lightly nudging him on the shoulders. "Like I told you before, I haven't been in a good place for a while and I still have a lot of baggage to deal with. But I am slowly getting there."

_That was just weird. _Chuck shuddered. _She doesn't look or act any different than the Sarah Walker I used to know. Wait... Nononononoo... NLP-105... That's how that old sleazebag – Roan or whatever he was called – taught us to operate. I must be careful. If I slip up even once, a highly capable individual like her can take advantage of it. And why did I utter such a bizarre comment? What's wrong with me? Whenever I meet her my brain-to-mouth filter stops working!_ He pinched his nose in frustration. _Wait, her hands... __they felt really soft and warm_. He blushed and mentally facepalmed. _Okay, this is ridiculous. I __refuse__ to even acknowledge I might have a crush on her, especially after what the Intersect showed me! Okay, she is smoking hot. And looks at me with really kind eyes. She... also has good legs. But Lou had the better waistline- NO! Now I'm even more conscious of her! Stop thinking, stupid! _Chuck clenched his fists inside his pockets, immediately banishing all the not so stellar thoughts from his mind.

He _really_ needed to stop reading _Twilight_.

Before he could recover lost ground, Sarah reached over and squeezed his hands comfortingly as they suddenly stopped in front of a building, which Chuck didn't recognize. It had windows with the words _Ma Fille Pâtisserie _written on them in smooth cursive. Surprisingly, the CIA agent opened the door for him.

"After you."

"Thanks." Chuck grunted. They entered the warm little cafe, where light jazz music was playing in the background. They were greeted by a pretty waitress who smiled at both of them.

"Ah, table for two?" She asked, giving Sarah a knowing look.

"Yes, thank you." Sarah nodded, laying a hand on his shoulders and steering him to the two-seater table the waitress led them to.

"Good morning, Sir, Ma'am. My name is Claire and I will be your server for the day." She said once they were settled in, handing them each a menu. "Today's special is Boston clam chowder. Complimentary breadsticks, Ma'am?"

"Hmm... I would like the caffè corretto with a side of a blueberry and mixed fruit cheesecake, please. Oh, I haven't eaten breakfast yet, so I'll have a strawberry cornetto as well."

"Certainly. And for the gentleman?"

"Uhh..." Chuck said ever so eloquently, looking at the menu in confusion at seeing all those fancy names which he couldn't even pronounce. "...Just coffee with cream and sugar, please. Oh, and a cheesecake too." He added as an afterthought, remembering that he also missed out on breakfast.

"Ahem." Sarah coughed, prompting Chuck to look at her in confusion.

"What?"

"Such a shame, only buying regular coffee in a place like this." Sarah continued in a rather teasing manner. "I thought the famous golden boy of the NGA had more of an... international palate. Ah well, there's always next time."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Chuck confessed. _There is going to be a next time?_

Sarah raised an eyebrow before giving both him and the restaurant a once over, as if scanning for potential threats. Chuck blinked in confusion as she closed her eyes for a brief moment, then something shifted inside her. When she looked back at him, her eyes no longer seemed warm and inviting. The sudden change in her body language (in terms of nature and intensity) felt highly unsettling and disturbing, given his recent knowledge of her occupation and... professional accomplishments. He had no idea what the hell she was planning to do right now.

"Chuck... I hate to make this all awkward and serious but this is the only way I can explain this to you. I am aware the NSA summoned you to Ft Meade with regard to a highly classified military project."

Chuck was surprised by her revelation. Sarah flinched when his eyes morphed from his usual warm shade of chocolate brown to an almost unreadable pitch black; his facial expression also became unreadable. That was new. She didn't know he was capable of masking his true emotions.

"What are you trying to say?" Chuck furrowed his eyes, sensing the serious atmosphere.

"What I showed you back then... it was just a cover. In truth, I am a special operative of the CIA." Sarah paused for a moment before continuing further. "And my agency has sent me to hand you a proposition. But before that, you deserve to know something. Something I don't think the NSA would have bothered to tell you in the first place."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The rogue agent who tried to steal all those highly classified government secrets and ultimately failed... was none other than Bryce Larkin."

Chuck was stunned. "Just to be sure, are we talking about the same Bryce Larkin? My former best friend since freshman year? My good old roommate from Connecticut, who slept with my ex-fiancée and had me kicked out of Stanford? Are we talking about the same backstabbing son-of-a-bitch?"

Sarah let out a sigh. Of course she knew Bryce was responsible for the whole cheating scandal which ruined Chuck's life before he caught the attention of the NGA. Though as far as the break up was concerned, she felt Chuck's fiance was equally to blame as well; Now only if Graham told her about his real identity beforehand or she had gotten any indication from Chuck about how he looked back then, she wouldn't have gotten involved with him in the first place or perhaps made sure he never survived their first mission together. She had no love lost for that betrayer after all. But there was no use crying over spilled milk right now; and she feared about revealing anything about the real nature of their partnership to Chuck , lest he decided not to touch her with a ten-foot pole. Before then, she had to be sure he could accept the truth and not feel betrayed by her.

"We briefly worked together at the CIA. His cover name was Brian Anderson." She couldn't control the hitch in her voice and actually had to look away for a moment.

The familiar sensation took hold once he heard the name and Chuck's eyes lost focus as the data flashed in front of his mind's eye.

_Goldfish_

_CIA logo_

_Project Omaha_

_Classified data_

_Pictures of Sarah and Bryce_

_Special Agent Brian Anderson_

_Special Agent Amelia Anderson_

_Visuals of Mickey Mouse playing piano_

_Goldfish_

Looking away from her, Chuck started blinking rapidly, trying to digest the new information as fast as possible. He turned ghostly pale and was overcome with shock.

_Fuck me sideways! _His mind replayed some momentary passionate moments between Mr and Mrs Anderson, who appeared to be heading in that very directi- _No. Not going there._ More importantly – as he feared back in that meeting with the General and that Casey guy – Bryce Larkin had been a CIA agent. And thanks to him, Chuck now had _two_ federal agencies to worry about where this godforsaken Intersect was concerned. He was almost glad Bryce was dead.

"Erm...!" Somehow, Chuck managed to calm himself down. After going through what he did that morning, he built a modicum of resistance to situations like these. Even though he fumbled a bit, he managed to get the words out.

"So... What can I do for your... agency?"

"You are the only one capable of extracting data from the device and restoring the Intersect. Whoever you decide to work for will have primary control of this project moving forward." Sarah explained. She didn't like getting involved in inter-agency politics and had always been more at ease in the field than the boardroom. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but sympathize with the position her boss was in courtesy of the actions of her dead partner / ex-lover. Graham had always fought tooth and nail to keep the project within the aegis of the CIA; with funding and project control now up in the air (and Bryce's PDA in the NSA's possession), she _had_ to tempt Chuck to their side. Failure was not an option.

"Look, Sarah. I will tell you the same thing I told the NSA. I already work for a federal agency." Chuck let out a sigh as he looked away for a moment.

"General Beckman is very smart, calculating, ruthless, and a seasoned spymaster. If she wanted to, she could take you whenever she wanted." Sarah looked into his eyes with a blank unreadable expression.

"Then why hasn't she?" Chuck asked.

"I am certain she wants to; chances are she is simply waiting for the opportune moment. You have no idea how invaluable you are to her agency."

"Let me make this clear to you. I am _not_ interested in any part of this inter-agency rivalry. I just want to do my job."

"No one gives a damn what you think, Chuck! You are part of it, whether or not you want to be. I am only telling you because..." Sarah frowned. "I am telling you this, because you have to pick a side or others will pick it for you, and no amount of explaining, or show of goodwill will stop them from drawing their conclusions and acting as they see fit." She paused for a brief moment as she calmed herself. "I know you are just doing your job. But you must face reality. No one is going to leave you alone. And if you are useful to one side, that makes you a threat for another." She frowned deeper.

Loath as he was to do so, Chuck realized Sarah was right. As valuable as his skills and certain possessions were to the agencies, it seemed as though they ultimately deemed him a glorified chess pawn.

_Useful to one side, a threat for another. This day just keeps getting better. Damn you, Bryce._

...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

A list had been made. Names were picked. In due course, Roark was going to cross almost every single one of them off.

Several people were overseeing the algorithm that revealed a myriad of possible candidates behind the NGA's groundbreaking technology. After what felt like countless hours, the list had been reduced to five hundred. At the same time, a team was working on the clip Zarnow provided them, which was more time-consuming than they expected. The NSA did a great job of keeping his identity secret. However, someone peculiar had caught Roark's eyes. A profile which stood out from the overwhelming number of scientists and researchers in the NGA's employ.

"It can't be..." He muttered in wonder.

"Charles Irving Bartowski. Our analysts have told us he is indeed the son of your infamous old frat buddy Stephen Bartowski. They haven't confirmed it yet, though." One of the men pointed out.

"Charles Bartowski..." Roark murmured. "I almost forgot about Stephen's children. It has been over a decade after all. So his son is on this list as well."

"Sir?" One of the aides, who happened to be a beautiful bespectacled woman in her late twenties, took a step towards his desk. "Do you really think a kid like that can do what an entire team of highly qualified and highly experienced engineers and scientists could not? That'd be like something straight out of a comic book."

Roark looked to his aide. "Perhaps. We can't be too sure about anything right now. In the meantime, continue with the program. And tell Meadow Branch to prepare our test subjects for the upload."

"When?"

"Now."

"Sir, the variation Dr Busgang is working on hasn't been properly tried and tested. Perhaps we should wait for the Government Intersect and new test results to show up. Then we will–"

"I don't care if it hasn't been fully tested. _We_ will be the first. This is our chance to make sure the RING will see us in a new light. Never will we cast a seed of doubt to our greatest benefactors."

"Sir, there is a chance the test subjects will suffer from a multitude of side effects, some of which are potentially fatal..."

Roark turned to look at his sniveling aide in contempt, who nervously adjusted her glasses. "The trick to conquering death, Dr Roberts, is to let it happen and sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the greater good of humanity. Now do as you're told and give my orders to Meadow Branch."

The brown-haired woman didn't look convinced but it wasn't like she could do anything right now. After all, that was the choice she made for herself many years ago. She stole a nervous glance at the profile Roark pulled before turning to him.

"Test subjects will be ready in 24 hours, Sir." She responded with a reluctant nod.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

I am sorry that this took so long.

Life hasn't been the best since past few months, and this story suffered as a result. I could give details but they are just common issues of life, health, family, work .

But they still had an impact on my ability to write and my stories suffered due to that.

Still, this story is not dead. I have a vision for this story and I will follow it to the end. There are still twists I haven't pulled out and I can't wait to get to writing them.

So stay tuned XD

Anyways, as always, thank you all for reading and commenting, and happy holidays to all :)

Additionally, have a Great Deal of happy days ahead of this year. Keep Healthy and blessed!


	14. Chapter 14

**Flashback**

_"I still have a hard time believing Chuck would do something like that." The brown-haired woman ran her hand over Bryce's chest with partially-feigned appreciation. "You sure he didn't do it to help a fellow student out?"_

_While Bryce looked for an answer through the alcohol in his system, she took in the flat he recently moved into. It was pretty small, but still more than enough for two people to live in. It had very expensive and stylish furniture, a large TV... in short, it screamed 'bachelor pad'. It had many windows, though all the blinds were down. Bryce had stuck with muted colors, something she wasn't was fond of. She preferred lively colors, just like the man she was in love with._

_"I don't know... I feel bad for the guy but I didn't have much of a choice." The woman frowned. He was lying through his teeth. She was damn sure about that._

_"Oh, I know baby!" She had spent ages figuring how to penetrate his guard without using any artificial means. She also knew she only had a few minutes before the kisses became too frequent to let her speak. She messed with the clothing in order to buy herself some time, fumbling with his belt as she pushed him on his bed. "It still sounds kinda fishy, though. Don't you think?"_

_Bryce tried to focus on her face, trying to read her true intentions. However, she was trailing kisses along his chest, distracting him and hiding herself. Under normal circumstances she wouldn't have let any other man touch her like that but the life and career of the man she loved was at risk. In order to save him, she was willing to go all out; that was the sole reason for her being in Bryce's flat in the first place. "It was Fleming. He wanted to make Chuck... part of a military project. This was... the only way to make sure that didn't happen."_

_"How did a hunk like you pull it off?" She tried to make the question light and flirty; unfortunately, she felt his back stiffen. Damn. She had pushed too hard. Maybe her acting wasn't quite as good as she believed._

_"I filmed... him... while he was having an affair with a... student." Bryce's voice was starting to become less distracted. He was probably beginning to suspect she had ulterior motives. It was time to remove that suspicion._

_Taking out a syringe from her bag, she plunged it into Bryce's neck; once he started breathing rhythmically, she sighed in relief. She had to pay a hefty sum to buy the illegal drug, which the DEA sometimes used to interrogate notorious drug peddlers. Even though the manufacturer boasted of its ability to work without leaving a trace, she knew better. Drugs always left telltales behind. But if her purchase was as effective as claimed, it would be money very well spent._

_One down, one more to go._

_"Now honey, tell me... where did you keep that clip?" She asked while caressing him gently._

**Flashback End**

...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...

"So what exactly did you and General Beckman talk about?" Sarah started grilling Chuck moments after he reluctantly mentioned the recent presentation he made to the NSA Director and her favored la... associate.

On the surface, Chuck was a cool, calm and collected man giving off an unsurpassed aura full of self-assurance and confidence. Internally, he was freaking out.

Back in his student days, one of his favorite hobbies had been singing and acting. He had participated in a few small plays in high school and a couple of musicals at Stanford; nothing too serious, but rather enjoyable.

Stage fright was a terrible thing, but it was a fear he believed conquered a long time ago.

Chuck sighed as he leaned backwards slightly. _Well, I suppose i_t's not like I have___ anything__ to hide where that meeting's concerned. Besides, my real secrets are still safe with me._ He mentally reviewed his meeting with General Beckman and tried to remember if she mentioned anything noteworthy other than a need for constant supervision to ensure his safety. In the end he gave up and decided to tell Sarah a somewhat edited version because that seemed easier than the alternative.

"If you have any future plans of working on projects like that, then it would be a good idea to negotiate and make it so that it either gives you a greater advantage or to make your payment less ambiguous." Sarah grimaced once she finished. "Agreeing to an errand like that without knowing the full details – especially when it is issued directly by people who rank far above you – can be significantly risky. But right now, you don't need to worry about any of that." She hurried to reassure Chuck since he started looking a bit nauseous as he imagined spending his next birthday in a remote Alaskan bunker. "If you were to disappear just like that, it would cause a shitstorm neither General Beckman nor Director Graham would want to be part of. Though that won't stop them from using other methods to try and get you."

"Oh? Enlighten me." Chuck replied casually, his voice filled with amusement. He didn't really care, but he was trying to take his mind off of things for a bit, and Sarah's usual haughty rant – mixed with concern for him – was the perfect way to escape reality.

"Deception: Giving a target a false sense of security, leaving them open to attack. Seduction: A target will feel less threatened and more likely to agree if they believe a beautiful woman seeks comfort and pleasure by making themselves vulnerable to them." She sounded like a lecturer.

"I will simply focus on that program. Nothing more, nothing less." Chuck said wisely, nodding his head as his left hand scratched his chin. "As if being forced to work on this top secret high-risk project wasn't enough; choosing your agency or the other will put me on somebody's shit list."

Whilst the Charles of yesterday would have accepted this with nothing more than mere surprise, the Chuck who now stood before her was not so naïve.

"Okay, you have made your point. Are you really going to stay neutral in this?" Sarah rolled her eyes and groaned. "People like Beckman and Graham don't like taking no for an answer. Just know that if you think catering to others will get you what you want, then you are effectively their tool. Besides, as a federal employee you're currently locked into the government's rigid pay grades and policies, even though you deserve a lot more. If you want to leverage a very good deal with another agency in return for your services, this is your chance."

Chuck nearly bit his tongue. As it happened – unknown to all bar a few people – he did receive a decent signing bonus upon joining the NGA. And all those research grants Ellie received really helped to reduce her sizeable student debt. At the end of the day, his existing job was just a cover so he could freely work on understanding the computer inside his head and figure how to safely to remove or suppress it, which would allow him to return to his normal life. Given his current situation and who his father was, he was unsure if switching to the CIA or NSA was a good idea.

_I can't seem to make up my mind. Regardless of what I saw in those visions, most of that was part of her job. And yes, I can now admit to myself that I like Sarah. But I must convince her to back off so I can visit Dr Dreyfus and figure out exactly what the government Intersect did to my brain._

"Look, Sarah... I believe you have no malicious intent towards me. Even though you find it hard to open up to people, you are someone who values those close to you. That's something I have always admired." He spoke out softly as his eyes bored into her startled ones. She was quite surprised and flattered by how highly he spoke of her. "If your agency or the NSA learned of our connection, they might use it to manipulate the situation to their liking and as your friend, I don't want that to happen. Just let me deal with this on my own. There must be a way out without all these complications." He concluded with a reassuring smile, hoping to put her heart at ease.

Sarah found herself completely at a loss, her mind even more scrambled than it previously was. She didn't want to lose Chuck. Not because he was a prized engineer capable of rebuilding the Intersect back to its former glory. Not because his joining the CIA, if he were so inclined, would lift her career out of the quagmire Bryce's last act dumped it in. Honestly, it was because she wanted to get to know him better and fulfil his expectations of her. Like his expectation that she was – in contrast to how most people (including herself) saw her – more than an emotionless husk.

Furthermore, that feeling of trust, that feeling of fondness she had felt towards the former Nerd Herder was still intact, even after all these years, despite the fact she had been in a relationship with someone else.

Rather than follow Graham's orders as his loyal enforcer, as she usually would (because even Sarah had to admit she typically followed her agency's guidelines), she wanted to _prove __herself_ to Chuck.

It was an odd feeling; one that was foreign to the CIA agent and former conwoman. The only time she felt somewhat close to this in the past was when her dad used to ask her to _help out__._

Sarah put her warm hand on top of his, then squeezed it gently. Chuck immediately knew twenty other men in the room wanted to be in his shoes. "Chuck, my job is to keep you safe and sound. As such, I will be staying with you until ordered otherwise. It's the least I can do for a friend." She insisted with a fierce look of determination in her eyes, flashing a bright smile which put the dazzling sun rays to shame.

_Huh? Are you sure you have the right person? _Chuck let out a sigh of frustration. "Riigght." This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. "I really wish you weren't involved in all this."

"What?" Sarah blinked in confusion, noting the disapproval in her tone. "You can trust me, Chuck. I won't betray you." She promised him once again in a gentle yet firm tone.

"Yeah, sure. I know you won't. I am the creator of this technology so the NSA can't do much about me even if I somehow ended up on their shit list. But if General Beckman figures out you are involved in this, it might put your life in danger." Chuck closed his eyes, taking a long breath as he figured that was the end of it.

"Geez, what are you? My mother?" Sarah joked, nudging him with her elbow. "I will be fine, Chuck. Remember that I've been doing this for years. And I like to think I am pretty good at my job." She retorted with a playful wink as she patted him on his shoulders.

"I guess you will always be the tougher one between us." Chuck laughed nervously, offering a goofy grin. Sarah smiled at this, happy to see Chuck was back to his normal self.

"By the way," Sarah started as she ceased her laughter, "What are you planning on doing for rest of the day?"

_Why is it every time I see her, I want to gulp?_

"Hmmm..." Chuck hummed, tensing up in embarrassment. He wasn't quite sure why, but it was quite hard to decide his next move. Initially he had it all planned out, but he hadn't expected that Sarah Walker of all people would turn out to be a CIA agent and he would be left with so little to go on. Finally, he sighed and accepted his fate, smiling as he looked up at her.

"I will leave that up to you. I owe you a treat anyway."

_What about those pictures with Bryce, though? And why did they seem... close? _A voice inside him asked.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

Roark knew it was difficult for him to accept. But until the agencies stopped looking into Larkin's failed attempt at stealing the Government Intersect, FULCRUM had to act cautiously for the time being.

_Those bastards. Surely they have something better to do than just snoop in unnecessarily._

At the same time, however, he knew what he had to do. He should be using this time to make his corporation much more efficient in terms of making more profit and technology.

_Maybe I should use this time to advance our reach within government offices as well._

Whilst heading to his office, he could feel it in a new way. It seemed much bigger to him now.

_It's time to take everything under my control, as it should be._

There was a certain task he couldn't keep out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. "Carmichael. I must figure out what this engineer knows about Orion's designs and how he managed to handle the downloading process. Whoever he is, his life will soon be in my hands. I must examine his life, one second at a time."

He pressed a button on his phone system. "Yes, Mr Roark," his secretary spoke up from the other end.

"Get Augusto Gaez on the line."

...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

Dr Zarnow let out a sigh, wondering if he made a mistake. He really needed to finish this task, though. Which would firmly place him back on Ted Roark's good side. However, he couldn't help but feel he was contributing to the ruination of a defenseless young man with a bright future ahead of him.

"What's wrong?" His wife Emily came up from behind, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Zarnow's head dropped. "The price I am willing to pay to get out of the FULCRUM business is quite a steep one."

"What do you mean?"

Zarnow took a seat on the sofa. "I don't know how to say it, but here goes... Roark is trying to get his hands on a top secret military project called the Intersect, but his men failed to do the job and somehow all the intel was locked up inside a PDA. A young man – some sort of specialist in the NGA – was called in to access that information before the self destruct protocol deleted everything. And working with this program had changed him. All the information is now inside his brain, like a computer."

A lot to let sink in.

Zarnow continued further. "I tried to follow him but before I could get a good look at his face, he started mentioning all the intel I stole for FULCRUM. I panicked and ran away. Once I informed Mr Roark, he offered me a deal. If I can get this young man for him, he will allow me to retire from FULCRUM and leave the country with enough money to last a lifetime."

"You feel guilty." His wife concluded.

"Yes." Zarnow took a deep breath, eyes staring forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded. "I should have handled myself better back then. I should have paid more attention when Busgang asked me to help out with that mission all those years ago. If only I knew what he was planning... and now I feel like everything is my fault."

"It isn't." His wife corrected him. "You shouldn't say that. You will only make yourself sick."

"That's why I doctored the clip before handing it over to Roark, but that's not enough." He said. "I feel like I should do more. Make a difference. But I don't know how."

"It's out of your hands, Jon. You have already done more than enough. If you want my advice, I think you should step aside and let FULCRUM and the NSA do their respective jobs."

"The kid, Emily." Zarnow said aggressively, his fists clenched in anger and frustration. "I can't just turn the other cheek while he is fed to the wolves!"

"I understand." Emily nodded. "But it's a dangerous world out there. Changes are being made every day. We are all being swallowed up in the spy drama. I want my husband to be safe. I need my husband to stay out of harm's way. I need my husband to step aside and remember that he has a wife and daughter who love him deeply."

"I love you too." Zarnow returned, hugging his wife and giving her a quick kiss on the lips. "Okay. I will do what you tell me. But if Roark crosses a line..."

"One step at a time." She said, kissing him. "One step at a time."

...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...

"Theodore Roark." The largest crime lord in the world greeted in his deep voice, a cigar between his fingers. "I wondered if a call from you was forthcoming."

"Gaez. I appreciate your willingness to contact me at such short notice." Roark returned his greeting.

"While I consider friendships a weakness, I'd like to think our working relationship is quite healthy." Gaez said with a smug grin. "That being said, I hope you would do the same for me if needed."

Roark was forced to take a momentary breath. "Yes, well... I suppose I share that thought as well."

"Good to hear, Roark. Good to hear. Now, how can I be of service?"

"It is imperative that I acquire the technology which can fully decrypt the Intersect and the man who created it as soon as possible." Roark explained the dire situation. "It's very important that I have this Carmichael under my thumb before the NSA ends up taking him away forever."

"I see."

"I know you are a man with deep pockets and even deeper resources. I am also well aware you have a lot of contacts within the government agencies as well."

"That is true." Gaez chuckled, knowing very well thanks to his close contacts within the RING that Roark wouldn't dare sell him out.

"Can you help me?"

"Yes." Gaez was quick to assure him. "But first, I am in need of assistance as well."

Roark cursed under his breath. He knew it! The catch! There was always a catch. He waited for Gaez to explain what it was that he needed.

"A long time ago, a pretty wild thing from DC came to my city. A woman of great anger and strength. She impressed me with her rampage and inflicted a significant loss in manpower and territory upon my organization before I ultimately managed to drive her out. However, her informant network is still quite sound and causing me a lot of trouble, eating at my business from the inside. If you really want my help in getting Carmichael... then you need to hunt a wild cat for me."

Roark sharply narrowed his eyes, immediately putting two and two together.

"You mean a clandestine agent? With all due respect, are you out of your mind? You want me to kill a government-sanctioned assassin for you? How is that going to help you anyway?

Gaez was always cool, laid back, composed at all times, brimming with confidence. "Unless she is permanently taken care of, she will surely come after me in due time. She has been planning my demise for a long time. If I don't deal her with soon enough, I may not see her coming this time."

His usefulness aside, there was still the matter of taking down this highly-skilled clandestine agent and not making a mess while doing so. This could prove to be tremendously difficult, even for someone like Roark.

"And how would you propose I go about this?" he wondered.

"Your intelligence and resourcefulness rivals mine, Roark." Whether that was a compliment or a taunt, Roark couldn't tell. "I am sure you can come up with a satisfactory plan."

That only strengthened Roark's disgust for the vile man. However, there was no denying the benefits. Having Gaez on your side was certainly better than having him against you. Besides, he could get information on anyone he wanted through his connections. So Roark would continue to play nice.

For now.

...xxxxx...xxxxx...xxxxx...

**I am trying to make some changes for the sake of consistency, that will make sense in the future.**


	15. Chapter 15

_Sarah produced a couple of glasses and poured the wine as Chuck set down the tray next to her. It was only then she realized he had prepared what appeared to be a full course meal. It had a plate of egg salad accompanied with creamy avocado and Greek yogurt. There was even a side of assorted fruits._

_"Sorry if this isn't what you normally eat." Chuck scratched the back of his head sheepishly, the grin on his face widening so much it nearly caused his eyes to squint. "My sister makes this when she isn't in the mood to cook. I wish I could have made you something hearty and satisfying but I am not that good with cooking so..."_

_She couldn't help but smile. This Chuck seemed like such a nice young man, and so helpful too! Though a part of her was slightly disappointed he wasn't a little more aggressive._

_"It's fine." Sarah told him gently as she grabbed the fork, then took a bite of the food he prepared for her. She blinked in surprise. "This is very good," she complimented, causing him to beam._

_"Thanks. I can't make anything too complicated yet but I have always been somewhat decent at following basic recipes." Chuck laughed heartily, a bit of self-depreciation mixed with good humor. "When you live with an awesome sister who is basically good at everything for as long as I have, you gotta pick up a thing or two."_

_"I see." Sarah gave him a smile. Her curiosity was definitely piqued about Chuck's seemingly perfectionist sister, making her wonder if her life might have turned out differently with an older sibling like that to rely on. She quickly banished those thoughts. She didn't want anyone else to go through what she did and make those inhuman choices in order to survive._

_"Now it's my turn to know about your family. I bet you were some sort of modern day princess growing up." Chuck looked at her inquisitively with a playful smile._

_"I wish." Sarah shook her head with a miserable sigh, looking away in shame. With anyone else this would have been terrifying for her. Yet with Chuck, it wasn't. Besides that, she wanted at least someone to know the kind of person she was before she sold her soul in the name of the greater good._

_"My parents were never married and didn't plan on having me in the first place. I was born after they separated and my mom didn't want anything to do with me. The only reason I didn't end up in an orphanage was because my grandmother threatened to throw her out of the house and stop paying her allowance. And even she didn't like me that much. I only met her half a dozen times, if that. It was basically an act of pity on her side; nothing more, nothing less. I was kinda glad when my father showed up and took me away from that hellhole. He was indeed very kind to me but I figured out much later... things weren't as simple as I once thought."_

_"What do you mean by that?" Chuck blinked in confusion._

_"He was..." She hesitated for a brief moment."...a swindler. A notorious one."_

_"Oh." Chuck wasn't sure how else to respond._

_"Does that make you think less of me? Knowing I'm the illegitimate daughter of a criminal?"_

_"No! Of course not!" Chuck reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. "I am just sorry to hear you had to endure all that while growing up."_

_"Nah, it's fine, it's fine." Sarah waved his apology off with a melodious laugh. "While my past still bothers me every now and then, I turned my life around at the right time and right place." Her smile softened a bit, resembling a mix of nostalgia and a bit of regret. "So just treat me the way you would anyone else."_

_"I will try..." Chuck rubbed the back of his head. "But since you are so amazing and kind, I don't know if I will be able to manage it."_

_"Oh my..." Sarah trailed, raising a hand and covering her mouth with it to hide the smile on her lips as she continued in a mock stern tone. "Flattery won't get you anywhere, you know..."_

_Chuck kept apologizing throughout the evening, much to Sarah's mild dismay and amusement. The Bartowski male was easy to mess with, after all._

_...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxx..._

Michael Kernan signed the day's last sheet of paper work. He let out a sigh of relief as he set his pen down, then grabbed his pipe. Before he could celebrate, his satellite phone started ringing. It was a relic from back in the day, something he hadn't used in a very long time. His wrinkled face grew grim as he set his pipe down; very few people had knowledge of his number, so he couldn't refuse or ignore the call even if he wanted to.

Reaching out for his cane, he made a slow and painful walk to the aforementioned device and managed to answer it on its fifteenth ring. He really should have gotten the knee transplant Dr Woodcomb advised him to get on his last marriage anniversary.

"It's been a while, Warhawk." A feminine voice grunted on the other side. "We need to talk."

"Of course you do." Michael grimaced. "I assume this isn't a courtesy call."

"Perhaps. Word on the grapevine is one of your promising employees has recently started making a name for himself." The female voice responded in an all too innocent manner.

"What of him?" Asked the Admiral, inwardly groaning.

"Warhawk, would you care to tell me what reasons you have for grooming a certain employee of yours to fill his father's shoes?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, _Frost_."

"_Big brother..._"

"Don't you dare call me that!" The Admiral snapped, his eyes hard. "You lost that right when you went rogue and wrecked the lives of Hartley and your own family. I don't deal with traitors and criminals. As far as I am concerned, my sister died all those years ago."

The woman on the other end took it all in stride. "I didn't call you to settle our long-standing grievances. Both of us know something's coming. You could use my help."

"The last time I asked you for help, I ruined six lives and lost many others." Michael replied. "I have learned not to make that mistake again."

The woman said nothing for a moment, then spoke in a hardened tone. "Then I shall act alone, as I always have. Make sure you take your medicine on time." The voice softened a bit towards the end before the line went dead.

After putting the phone down, Michael let out an irritated breath as he opened his drawer and took out a torn picture of what appeared to be a blonde woman with sparkling green eyes. A few seconds later, he bashed the desk with his fist. As papers and other stationery spilled onto the floor, he screamed in pain and agony, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxx...

"Ha. I never really thought about swirling chocolate and vanilla frozen yogurt together, but it's really delicious." Chuck said as he looked down at the cup and took another bite. As he and Sarah took a walk along the streets, she couldn't help but feel shy around him.

"This place makes the best frozen yogurt you can find in DC." Sarah nervously giggled while placing another spoonful in her mouth. She thought for a moment as she looked at him, seeing Chuck smile at her. "You know if it wasn't for you, I probably would have stayed at home and eaten pizzas all night. To be honest, I am not that interesting."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Chuck shrugged his shoulders lightly. "Even without all the James Bond / Sydney Bristow stuff, I think you are pretty awesome. Always were, always will be."

"Chuck." Sarah giggled in amusement. Her voice adopted an almost amorous tone while addressing him, causing the Bartowski male to blink in confusion. "Not even my ex-boyfriend saw me that way. Whenever we had time to go out, he spent half the time on his phone, keeping track of his League of Legends account."

"Ha! What a douche! He clearly wasn't the right one for you. If it was up to me I would have gladly given away all of my Blue Essence to be with my girlfriend!" Chuck folded his hands while glancing at Sarah. And for the first time, her gaze caught his attention. It was a gaze warmer and fonder than anything he could remember being directed at him since his relationship with Lou... actually, that wasn't entirely true. A more logical and deductive part of his brain noted that it was far more intense then anything Lou had ever given him.

She tilted her head slightly and her smile widened a bit, her gaze not wavering in the slightest.

"Would... you consider going out with me then?" She asked, blurting the majority of her sentence out, afraid she might stop mid-thought.

Surprise flashed on Chuck's face, because that question clearly came out of nowhere.

"You mean like you want me to go shopping with you because you need me to carry something?" Chuck asked quizzically, cocking his head to the side.

Sarah slowly shook her head. "I mean... I want to be your girlfriend." She calmly explained herself, though she was unable to prevent a slight blush from appearing on her cheeks.

Chuck said nothing for a moment, staring at her with stunned astonishment on his face. She couldn't comprehend why he was just staring at her like that. Admittedly he wasn't that fortunate when it came to dating, but was it really such a big deal that she was showing interest in him? It wasn't like she had been hiding her intentions from him. She had been very clear (as far as she could tell) in wanting something more than friendship.

"Was that so hard for you to understand?" Sarah asked, a little bit of her frustration from the previous night revealing itself.

"No. I get that you are trying to ask me out. You just surprised me for a moment, that's all!" Chuck exclaimed, scratching his head in embarrassment and letting out a nervous laugh.

Sarah narrowed her eyes slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Why was that surprising?"

"Are you honestly ready to jump into another relationship so soon after your previous one ended?" Chuck asked gently. "I mean, I still can't fathom how I felt when Jill left me. Also, what with you being a spy and all, your job must surely put you under a lot of stress on a daily basis. Do you really want to date someone in the first place?"

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment. To Chuck's credit, that was a good point. Regarding her relationship with Bryce, she didn't feel particularly sad at the loss of her longest partner to date. A few years ago, when she went on a trip with Bryce and both spies shared a rare moment of genuine intimacy , she realized that his devil-may-care and carefree go-getter attitudes were masks he put on to fool everyone around him. She never called him out on it but it always felt like a betrayal of sorts, Something which had made her reluctant to connect with him on a personal level, even during their eventual relationship. She had made up her mind right there and then, how foolish it was for her to hope and form a real genuine bond with her fellow peers. And the girl inside her had whimpered and been heartbroken at losing another chance to be left out a long time after Harvard.

He was a good partner and she would risk her life for him on a mission, but at the end of the day they were only together for the sake of convenience.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself ever since he went rogue. He made his bed and had to lie in it. It was ironic that his death came at the hands of another federal agency. Though now that she knew about his true identity and what he did to Chuck before becoming a spy, she wouldn't have minded doing the deed herself as well.

Chuck saw a split-second flash of worry on her face before it was replaced by a knowing smile. "I am fine. If I wasn't ready I wouldn't have asked you out in the first place. And it's pretty obvious you like me."

"H-how do you know that?" Chuck choked a little on his yogurt, not expecting to be put on the spot like that.

"Last night, when we were out there in the parking lot..." Sarah began when Chuck interrupted her.

"Perhaps I had too much to drink and had a moment of weakness. Giving into alcohol isn't something I'm proud of. I'm really sorry you had to see that coming out from a guy, much less someone like me." Chuck spoke out in a courteous tone. For all his hard headedness when it came to women, he wasn't blind. And he wasn't made of stone either. Unfortunately, he had issues that needed taking care of before he could afford to start a relationship and deal with all that came with it. Besides, he was not in the mood to talk about what might have been a possible make-out with Sarah.

"It's not that. I looked at you and you looked at me. I could tell you were about to kiss me but changed your mind at the last moment." Sarah raised an eyebrow, getting even closer. The gap between them was narrowing and Chuck felt himself being surrounded by warmth.

He didn't reply right away; too many thoughts were fighting a battle in his brain. Could he trust her or had she been playing him since he met her in the nightclub? Was she really on his side or was she one of the bad guys? He shook his head. It didn't really matter whether he believed in her or not. Above all else, he needed to speak with the Admiral or Dr Dreyfus and see if they could help him figure out what to do with the information inside his head. He didn't have anyone else to turn to.

A traitorous part of his mind kept reminding him that someone as beautiful as Sarah would never have given him the time of day unless they had an ulterior motive. He was also privy to her psych profile and knew how well she had been trained in gaining the confidence of her targets by whatever means necessary. Someone like her could kill him relatively easily and quickly, and would know how to dispose of his body so it would never be found. At the same time, he couldn't help but see how she seemed genuinely concerned for him. He could also see the hurt and pain still swimming in her icy-blue irises. Perhaps he was just being paranoid and she was only trying to move on, after coming out of a messy relationship. Even so, he couldn't afford to let her get any closer to him than she already had. Some extremely dangerous individuals were after the information inside his head and he wouldn't let a friend risk their life for his sake if he could help it.

"Sarah, can I be completely honest with you?" Chuck asked suddenly. Sarah frowned and rolled her eyes in response.

"Shoot!"

"I think you are a good person, you put your faith in me when no one else did, and you've always tried to see the good in me. But my life is messed up in more ways than one can imagine, and you deserve to be with someone better."

"You're breaking up with me?" Sarah asked indignantly.

"We weren't technically dating, you know."

"Since when did you have a right to decide who I date?"

"You can date whoever you want, as long as that person truly respects you and cares about you. I on the other hand will bring nothing but disappointment and confusion to your life." Chuck replied in an almost pleading tone, which made Sarah's anger melt away a little, only to return tenfold.

"Do you seriously think you're protecting me when you say that? We are stuck together until you finish working on the program. This could put me in situations where I have to carry out some distasteful tasks to ensure our survival. Would you still think of me as a good person then? You can't protect me from any of that!"

Sighing, Chuck responded in a firm tone. "I need to be alone, at least until I sort this out. I can't afford to put anyone at risk."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, "why"?" Chuck asked looking at her.

After a while, Sarah approached him and tenderly placed her hands on his cheeks. As much as Chuck wanted her hands off, he couldn't find it in himself to remove them or walk away. He resigned himself to his fate and looked her in the eyes.

"Why should you be alone?" She whispered, pressing further against him. One hand clutched at his jacket while the other lightly played with hair at the back of his neck. "Why should any of us be alone?"

"Of course nobody should be alone." He finally stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I just don't want you to–" Chuck was cut off mid-sentence as Sarah grabbed his leather jacket by the lapels and crushed her lips against his. Once past his momentary shock, he took her by the waist and brought her closer to him; before he could kiss her back, they were interrupted by a cacophony of sirens heading their way.

Indeed, it appeared that a small fleet of police cars had pulled up nearby. The first police officer to emerge caught their attention; Chuck didn't know if his Intersect was acting up or if it was good old fashioned nerves, but somehow he could tell the officer was trouble. Not even the Frankenstein who dragged him to Ft Meade made him feel that anxious.

_Something's off about this guy._

"Mrs Amelia Anderson." The officer spoke with an unusual grin. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I have been meaning to chat with you for some time."

The moment Chuck's mind registered his words, he could already feel the now-familiar and unpleasant sensation of another flash. The red-tinted pictures pertaining to one Frank Mauser began appearing in his mind's eye.

_Monkey playing with banana_

_Mauser's police entry exam_

_Transfer letter to section 7 Special Activities Division_

_Gecko_

_His picture and classified records, part of them blacked out_

_Top secret red tab psych files_

_Semi-automatic rifle_

_Killsheet with thirty confirmed kills_

_WARNING: KNOWN FULCRUM OPERATIVE_

_Monkey playing with banana_

The sensation stopped as abruptly as it began.

"Damn! I knew there was going to be trouble." A visibly distraught Chuck muttered under his breath.

It was going to be one hell of a long night.

...xxxxx...xxxx...xxxx...


	16. Chapter 16

**Flashback**

_After a long and tiring day at the office, Chuck got back home to Lou's apartment. "I'm back." He called out._

_Lou quickly emerged from her room._

_"Hey, Lou. Ellie bought me this suit after I got my degree back. She just called and..." He noticed his girlfriend's expression and it didn't seem like a happy one. "What is it?"_

_"I-I d-don't think I can go with you, Chuck."_

_"Why not?" Chuck blinked in confusion._

_"Something... came up. This guy... from way back... wants me to run an errand for him. He says he has some key intel on Gaez and that traitorous bitch who ruined me. It has to be tonight." She replied in an apologetic tone._

_"Who... is this person? Is he a credible source?"_

_"He is an old... acquaintance."_

_"Oh." Chuck collapsed on the couch, trying to take it all in. Devon invited him to his brother's wedding, where he and Ellie would be introduced to the other Woodcombs for the first time; he wanted Lou to come along. Unfortunately, his sister viewed her as an entitled self-absorbed prick who didn't give a damn about anyone else and this was just going to add more fuel to the fire._

_Lou sat next to him and held his hand with both of hers. "Chuck, sweetie. I know how much you were looking forward to this. But sometimes we have to do things that will benefit all of us in the long run."_

_"Right." Chuck muttered. "Can you at least give me details?"_

_"Is it not enough to say that it's very important?"_

_"Not if you want to avoid meeting Ellie and Devon for the seventh time this year."_

_Lou reluctantly gave in and explained the situation. "There is a huge shipment of drugs coming into the country. All evidence suggests that it could be Gaez working with regular gangs, trying to take over the chains of distribution in major cities like New York, San Francisco, Chicago, etc. That bitch is handling the operation on the CIA side of things so I gotta catch her red-handed while she is fixing things for Gaez. You know how important that is to me."_

_Chuck felt resigned, but couldn't help sighing in frustration. "Fine!"_

_"What is it?" Lou was surprised at his reaction. She thought that Chuck of all people would have understood her crusade to regain her honor._

_"Do you... ever think about the future, Lieutenant?" Chuck leaned back, taking a deep calming breath. "I mean, what if you and I got married somewhere down the road, and lived in a big house like a happy family? Would you still want to go out on these dangerous missions?"_

_"Whoa there!" Lou cried. "Slow down! Chuck, why are you bringing this up?"_

_"I figure we should at least discuss things like that." Chuck said calmly. "I just want to see if you and I see things eye to eye. Not just trusting each other, but knowing and accepting what we truly want to get out of life. That's what being in a relationship is all about. Take me, for example – I would like to get my doctorate, become a major scientist like my dad was, then go on to create my own company. And I also want to become a good husband and father... somewhere down the road. What about you?" He looked at her passionately._

_Lou, on the other hand, looked quite alarmed. She looked away in embarrassment and gave no immediate answer, though deep inside she kept searching for one._

_"...You never really gave it a thought at all, did you?" Chuck asked._

_"Chuck, I think this is too much, too soon. Nobody knows what the future holds for you. Especially as the son of the legendary Orion."_

_"I try to plan ahead sometimes."_

_"You want me to marry you?" Lou asked, outraged._

_"If things continue to go well... that would be the next logical step. Don't you think?"_

_"I have grown fond of you. So much, in fact... that it even scares me. I love you, Chuck. I really do. But I draw the line at doing housewife duties."_

_"You know very well that's not what I meant."_

_"Then what should I do? Live like an ordinary person?"_

_"Something that doesn't involve you going after one of the world's most dangerous criminal master-minds and a highly-skilled lethal assassin in his employ."_

_"I am not that kind of woman and you are not that kind of man. We are special. I believe we will redefine our relationship as time goes on. You have to stop thinking like some Nerd Herd supervisor. You possess one of the most sophisticated innovations to ever exist right inside your brain. You will never be able to live like an ordinary salaryman. How many times do I have to remind you of that?"_

_Chuck stood up. "It seems we are two very different people here. I know." He took a thoughtful pause, then asked her, "Do you really love Chuck Bartowski? Or do you love__ the computer in my head__ and __my status as the son of Orion?"_

_"Chuck..."_

_"I just... feel very special being with you. You always tell me I have heart and spirit. So do you. But I sometimes feel like you regret being with me."_

_"I don't!" Lou suddenly stood up with conviction in her eyes. "I've always had feelings for you. I've loved you from the moment you held me in your kitchen, when we first met."_

_"What if I someday learned how to erase the Intersect?" Chuck tested her once again. "What if I just gave up on all these special abilities and went back to being a salaryman?"_

_Lou struggled and shook her head, unable to form a coherent response._

_"That's what I thought." He then went into another room with a suit in his hands._

_"What are you doing?"_

_"Gotta go buy a matching tie. Ellie should be here in a couple of hours." He stated adamantly._

_Lou was aghast at hearing this. "I told you I can't go with you, Chuck."_

_"I guess I will look like a clown in front of Awesome's family. No matter. It's not like anyone would care about a former Buy More employee." He responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm and frustration._

_And just like that, he went into the bathroom to shower._

**Flashback End**

...xxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

"Are you absolutely certain about this information?" Beckman spoke in a tone which usually made people question their own knowledge. Casey was more or less used to it, but even he wasn't entirely immune to her scrutinizing looks. He took another good look at the DARPA document in his hand and nodded once again.

"Do you remember Dr Paul Madriani, Ma'am?"

"Of course I do. He used to be one of the brightest minds to ever work for our agency and created the program which allowed researchers from all intelligence agencies to collate their data in a swift and effective manner, leading to the creation of the Intersect. Unfortunately, he was found dead five years ago."

"Surprisingly, he was the one who brought Chuck Bartowski to work with him at Harvard, despite his being branded as a cheater and made _persona non grata_ in the academic and professional fields. Apparently Bartowski was working on a visual intelligence algorithm which could read licence plates in traffic or recognize faces, but that's beside the point. I checked these files and the most interesting point of note was him befriending a woman by the name of Sarah Walker." Casey stared expectantly towards his superior, eagerly waiting for her to give him the order. To his annoyance she remained silent, maintaining a sceptical look on her face. "That woman is none other than Larkin's former lover and Graham's personal hunting dog." Again, he waited for Beckman's orders but she remained indifferent and he was starting to lose patience.

"Major Casey, I really appreciate your attention to detail and I will take this matter into consideration. However, I believe you should focus on the Intersect project for the time being and leave trivial matters like that to our analysts." Beckman responded in a nonchalant manner. She knew Casey continued to bear a grudge against the CIA for Larkin's actions, which directly led to his fellow agents' death. In addition, he was also visibly upset by the sudden demise of his old friend Frank Nelson, but she thought the news of Bryce's death and recovering the Intersect from the brink of self-destruction would appease him.

"They'll want the project back. You know as well as I that Walker is a cold-blooded killer, a complete burnout. If she and Graham are thrown into the mix, this moron will need all the help he can get, if not more." Deciding to use his ace in the hole, he dropped two pictures on her desk in dramatic fashion. "This picture was taken from CCTV footage outside a well known club called The Heist." Beckman's eyes narrowed upon seeing Chuck and Sarah in the same frame, about to kiss.

"Yeah, I don't believe in coincidences either, Ma'am." Casey now had a full-blown smirk on his face.

"You think this has something to do with Mr Bartowski's special expertise in relation to the Intersect project?"

"I can't think of any other reason for her to reappear in front of Mr Bartowski five years since their last meeting. Unless you believe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Very well. Go out there and observe the situation." For once in this conversation, Beckman wholeheartedly agreed with Casey. There was no such thing as coincidence in the world of espionage.

"With pleasure, Ma'am."

Casey's nod was enough to prompt her next words.

"Oh, Major Casey. If something were to happen to Walker, then..." She paused for dramatic effect. "...it would be a most unfortunate, yet unavoidable accident."

"Understood, Ma'am."

Casey saluted smartly, turned on his heel and quickly left the office before Beckman could change her mind. The idea of exacting revenge on the CIA and that Larkin bastard was just what he needed to cool off. The CIA skank, he would kill. That was a most welcome bonus for him, payback for getting in his way.

...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxx...

The hairs on the back of his head stood up as he stared at the imposing figures, eyes bulging in alarm at the sight. Chuck was truly in a vulnerable spot. Sarah was still standing beside him and he certainly didn't want to reveal his special abilities to her.

"What do you mean by "trouble", young man?" Mauser asked him silkily. "Do you mean to say you were expecting someone like me to arrive?"

In the past few years, Chuck had learned how to be a good liar so it was time to put his newfound ability / vice to the test. His humor often lowered other people's guards; he had to try against this man and hope it bought them some time.

"Yeah. You're from some theater group, right? Pulling pranks on people to test your method acting. My sister knew some folks like that back in UCLA." Chuck shrugged as he looked at Sarah, continuing in an all too innocent tone, laughing weakly.

"Chuck..." Sarah whispered, quickly stepping in front of him in a protective manner. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I doubt he is some actor trying to showcase his skills on the streets."

"Sharp as ever, Mrs Anderson. Glad to see you haven't lost your edge despite the unfortunate demise of your partner. You see, after receiving this assignment, I was called by an old friend of mine." Mauser continued further with a menacing grin. "He told me how you nearly killed the mighty Augusto Gaez despite how many precautions he took. And you did that quite effortlessly... Impressive, indeed. He mentioned a name, Amelia Anderson, which I now know is an alias of yours." He backed off and added with venom in his voice, "There is no personal enmity between us. Unfortunately, you have made an enemy of an individual with many resources. Whatever this man wants with you is of no concern to me, but with money involved, I just can't help myself. You see, when it comes to money, I get quite emotional. So emotional, in fact, that I might get violent. No matter the consequences."

"Extreme, perhaps, but it's how we get things done." Mauser nodded at both Sarah and Chuck, slightly smirking once again. "After all, no one knows that better than you, Mrs Anderson!"

Chuck gasped from the great surprise he felt upon seeing Sarah's stunned expression. He could feel her getting tense and it wasn't doing him any good. _What is this guy talking about?_ It was getting harder and harder to pretend not knowing what these men were truly capable of. But he couldn't just depend on Sarah. He had to intervene. Their lives were on the line. Desperately, he searched within his mind for a way of dealing with these dangerous individuals without exposing himself as the Intersect.

He had to do something.

_But what?_

"Wow..." He clapped half-mockingly, hiding Sarah from their view once again. "I gotta admit Sir, you've got the whole Bond villain accent down to a T. Why don't you audition for the new NCIS show?"

"Such an imbecile. I thought you had better taste in men, Mrs Anderson." Mauser looked at his armed henchmen as everyone laughed at that statement. Sarah looked at the henchmen and Chuck worryingly, but was surprised that the man in question wasn't doing anything. Until he suddenly turned around and kicked a basketball into Mauser's groin, making him bend over in pain and drop his gun. Incredibly, the ball had enough momentum to bounce sideways and hit a nearby wall, then rebound with twice the force into the heads of two henchmen, smashing them against the hoods of their cars.

"Come on!"

Before anyone could recover from their initial states of shock and ruminate the likelihood of physics-defying basketballs, Sarah grabbed Chuck by the shoulders and got them moving as far from their enemies as quick as she possibly could.

"What are you waiting for? Kill that bastard!" Mauser barked orders in a pain-stricken voice, still unable to fully regain his bearings (albeit recovered from his initial state of shock).

With bullets starting to fly as the henchmen gave chase, Chuck and Sarah dashed towards the back of the apartment complex. The highly skilled assassin was quick to take charge of the situation as she grabbed him by the waist and dived behind a dumpster. She loaded her pistols with fresh magazines, then fired several wild shots at the assailants, stopping them in their tracks.

Chuck tried to catch his breath, feeling her weight on him. It seemed she was using her body to cover his.

"You think... they will find us?" Chuck asked in a slightly uncertain tone.

"Not on my watch." Sarah replied with a hint of steel in her voice. She cursed internally. It was because of her those assailants were here in the first place, and now Chuck was in danger just for being with her at the wrong time. She handed him her car keys whilst formulating her next move.

"Can you get to the car by yourself?"

"What?" Chuck realized this was his chance to get away from Sarah and this whole mess. Unfortunately, the time he spent at Fort Bragg hadn't beaten him so thoroughly of his dignity and morality that he was okay with leaving Sarah to her fate. It was obvious Mauser had no qualms in killing her to fulfil his mission. "These guys are dangerous."

"There are at least six of them and I can't afford to let them get to you. I can take them out but it might be hard to do so while looking out for you. Don't worry, I've dealt with worse in the past. I am a true professional, you know." Sarah gave him a reassuring smile, trying to temper her words and not scare him. "Just get in my car and drive away."

She really didn't want to leave Chuck on his own, but she knew he stood a better chance of survival if she took care of her pursuers beforehand.

Chuck wanted to say something but before he could utter a single word, Sarah leaned in and placed a soft, searing kiss on his lips before pushing him away and sprinting in the opposite direction. She opened fire at her pursuers with extraordinary skill and deadly accuracy, successfully diverting their attention away from him.

Chuck started running towards the car in a crouched position. It would have helped if he was carrying a panic button with him like he did in the early days of his NGA employment, but it was deemed unnecessary after he passed all those hellish training parameters. He could still send an SOS message to the DoD personnel assigned to him, but even then it would take too long for a SWAT team to arrive and deal with the situation.

He was scared shitless right now. It didn't matter how many months he'd spent preparing his mind and body, or how many simulations he'd undergone to test out and hone his Intersect abilities. This was a real life and death situation. He didn't have to pretend to be an ordinary tech analyst. Especially now. He had to be unnerving, fearless and smart.

_I am a soldier in a war and these people are trying to kill Sarah and I._

He recalled what the Admiral often told him. The best way to deal with a threat...

"...Is to eliminate it." He whispered to himself, repeating it over and over like a calming mantra. All of a sudden, he detected a faint but familiar smell coming from a nearby passenger car.

And just like that, his mind came alive with countless possibilities.

...xxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

**Thanks to Crazzywally, baldcoder, WillieGarvin, Fezzywhigg and all those who made it this far ;)**

**I am really disappointed in myself for how much time it took to write this chapter but hopefully next one should be much easier to follow.**

**Take care**

**Stay healthy, Stay safe.**

**XD**


	17. Chapter 17

_After a long, tedious day at high school, Chuck raced towards his home, quickly climbing the stairs of their apartment. Once he unlocked the door, he saw his sister, dressed in workout clothes, repeatedly striking a punching bag._

_She had moved most furniture to the side of the room, so that nothing would be caught in the crossfire. The only thing she hadn't moved was the sofa chair, which had always been in the same place since... forever._

_A one-two punch combo was followed by a devastating spin kick as she repeatedly hit the punching bag, falling into a steady rhythm. So focused was she on her exercise that she barely heard her brother coming in._

_"Hey!" She said, delivering a hard roundhouse kick to the center of the bag._

_"Yo El, what's this?" Chuck asked, closing the door. "Olympic training?"_

_"Yeah. Gold medal comin' up in the near future."_

_Chuck let out a hearty laugh._

_"No, smartass." Ellie replied in a mock offended tone. "What, your sister isn't allowed to stay in shape?"_

_Chuck held up his hands in defeat._

_"I didn't say that. I didn't say anything."_

_"Ha, you certainly didn't!"_

_She stuck her tongue out playfully._

_Ellie stopped assaulting the defenseless punching bag as Chuck opened the fridge door. She went to the counter and grabbed a water bottle. After taking a large sip she looked towards her younger sibling._

_"Looking for something, Chuck?"_

_"Food."_

_"I see plenty of food there, doofus!"_

_Chuck hesitated briefly before replying._

_"Like food... that I actually want to eat."_

_Ellie sharply narrowed her eyes as she stepped closer to her brother, taking a good look at his face._

_"Hey, did something happen at school today?"_

_"What? Come on El..."_

_Ellie interrupted her younger sibling before he could continue making excuses. She placed a hand on his swollen forehead, causing him to flinch in pain._

_"Looks like you have got yourself a little bruise here. Was it Jarrod again?"_

_Chuck let out a miserable sigh, closing the fridge door after taking out an ice pack._

_"Yeah."_

_"Was it a fight?"_

_"No, not at all. It was just a minor... misunderstanding."_

_"You know, I really hate to tell you this, but you can't rely on me forever. You are my brother and I will always be there to protect you as much as I can, but yo__u need to learn how__ to stand up for yourself. You won't have someone to rely on when you go to college, or when you get a job. But there will be people like Jarrod. Maybe they won't try to punch you in the face, but they will try to keep you down. And sooner or later you must learn how to deal with that."_

_Chuck rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin._

_"Duly noted, Big Sis!"_

_Ellie smiled at him as she assumed a fighting stance._

_"I was thinking of learning Krav Maga. Maybe I can show you some moves."_

_Chuck and Ellie laughed as she tossed a few punches towards an imaginary enemy._

_"Just in case anything ever..."_

_Ellie paused, cracking her knuckles._

_"...happens."_

_Both of their smiles faded after a moment. Chuck then glanced at the nearby corner, where he could see a family photo. It showed Chuck when he was merely a child, standing in a park with his elder sister. She was laughing and had her hand wrapped around his right shoulder. Standing next to them was a middle-aged man with messy brown hair similar to Chuck's, with a wide grin on his face. His hand was placed around Chuck's left shoulder._

_Chuck looked away from the picture and stared back at Ellie. Letting out a deep sigh, the eldest of the Bartowski household reached out, placing a hand on Chuck's head. The brown-haired teen closed his eyes as Ellie pulled him into a warm, heartfelt motherly hug._

**...xxxx...xxxxx...xxxxxx...**

Needless to say, Agent Walker was quite frustrated with the situation at hand. Sarah was pissed at these fake cops for showing up right when Chuck was _this _close to giving in.

_They just had to interrupt now, didn't they? Was a single night of normalcy and romance too much to ask for?_

She fumed internally as she crawled sideways, landing behind a gunner who happened to be completely unaware of her movement, and swung her knee outwards. The force of the hit knocked the assailant out.

She quickly dragged the body out of sight, then searched it for car keys.

She did this for a living. Even though this situation was dangerous, it was basically just another Wednesday for her. In fact, she dealt with much worse during that accursed mission in Budapest and survived with just some minor injuries to show for it.

For her, this wasn't such a big deal.

The only issue was that Chuck was now involved with all this. And she wasn't okay with endangering his life. She was starting to get worried about him, knowing very well about what happened to some of the most brilliant and promising scientists related to the Intersect project. How they were abducted, tortured and brutally murdered by the very same rogue organization Bryce and many others like him worked for. She didn't want Chuck to end up like them. Ever.

The fear and anxiety she felt were quite real and she wasn't okay with leaving Chuck to fend for himself for a prolonged period of time. She needed to get back to him as quick as possible, to make sure he was safe and unharmed.

With that in mind, she held both of her guns close to her. She had already disabled three enemies, so it was only a matter of time before the rest came looking. She looked around and found a piece of metal nearby that would make a lot of noise. Her brain started calculating all the options as a plan to find an escape route began forming in the back of her mind.

Sensing something was amiss, she moved as quietly and as swiftly as she possibly could, hiding behind a delivery truck.

"Come out, come out, bitch! Wherever you are~"

"Do we really have to kill her? She seems pretty fuckable."

Sarah heard the voices of those looking for her – two of them, it seemed. She had them right where she initially wanted them. So as always, she held the advantage over them in battle.

Taking out the metal object, which happened to be a piece of broken pipe, she threw it against the squad car, shattering one of its windows.

"What's–"

_"Gotcha."_

The blonde agent quickly rose to her feet and cartwheeled through the air, simultaneously kicking both of them before shooting holes through their shoulders. Both assailants went down like the others.

However, before she could mentally celebrate her victory, she noticed a shadow approaching her from behind. She immediately crawled over, barely dodging a wild shot going overhead. Her relief proved short-lived as someone barreled into her from behind, pushing her to the ground. Her head hit the pavement after taking a nasty blow, knocking the breath out of her and causing her to drop both of her weapons. Movement at the corner of her eyes made her look up, only to notice her attacker's gun coming in an arc to strike her on the side of her head.

In the short moment she had left, she concentrated on Chuck. Every time she thought of him, it made her feel a little more at ease. Nothing else mattered.

_Will I ever see him again?_

The next thing she knew was darkness, leaving her unable to think or feel anything.

...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...xxxxxx...

As far as Chuck was concerned, he was cursed with bad luck. At least it seemed that way.

_Things have been getting worse recently, despite my new powers._

He jimmied his way inside the car and as he suspected, someone had bought a lot of home supplies today. The first thing he did was to remove air freshener canisters from the shopping bag, then he checked the bag for toiletries. He hoped his sense of smell was proven right.

His hand found a loosely packed bottle, then took another whiff to be sure, fully uncapping the bottle. He smiled to himself as the smell of ammonia rose from it. Now all he needed right now was bleach. He reached out again, removing item after item. Such as a small plastic pack of cable ties and a frying pan.

_Damn! It has to be here. Don't tell me they didn't buy it._

Eventually, he managed to pull out a heavy bottle. The lid was harder to pop off but he finally found himself some bleach, thank goodness.

A part of him contemplated just getting out of there and awaiting backup. However, the way Sarah had treated the whole Intersect situation, followed by her kissing him _twice__, _made him realize that while there was no sure-fire way to ascertain her intentions, she did genuinely care for him and he couldn't just leave her to her own fate. He was still incredibly terrified. But his decision to save her instead of reporting everything to the Admiral and letting the true professionals deal with Mauser was driven by a strange need he couldn't articulate.

He didn't know anything personal about Sarah, and if he adhered strictly to what he knew of her from the Intersect files, he should be getting as far away from her as he possibly could. He had to make up his damn mind and decide what he really wanted to do. Because he couldn't dodge the issue any longer, especially after that first kiss.

It was just one kiss.

A mind-numbing, knee-weakening, soul-searing, electrifying kiss. _A__nd__ he kissed her back_. Well, he would have if Mauser hadn't shown up when he did.

However, a more sceptical part of him couldn't help but wonder if that kiss even meant anything to her. She was no stranger to using her charms during a mission, after all. In fact, her files indicated that she was possibly one of the best when it came to business.

What if he was just getting ahead of himself?

What if she turned out to be another one who'd eventually leave him behind? That was a recurring feature of his past relationships.

_What am I truly afraid of? Her being an incredibly dangerous woman? Or that she might see me as some sort of abomination or a freak because of the computer in my head?_

He immediately quashed all the conflicting emotions bubbling up inside him, as now wasn't the time to deal with his petty emotions.

Now was the time to take immediate action.

Upon arming himself with makeshift weapons, Chuck gently stepped out of the car and scanned the surroundings for possible threats. Thankfully, no one was in the vicinity.

He took the deepest breath he could ever remember taking in his entire life, and rose to his full height. Exhaling slowly, he quietened his steps and made his way toward where all the action was taking place.

Moving as fast as he dared under the circumstances, he tried his best to focus on the task in hand; not for long, as he couldn't help but wonder what on earth he'd just trodden on. He bit his lip reluctantly as he looked down.

_Oh, God! That's an arm! A dead man's arm!_

The world around him shrank a bit, as he dropped to the floor like a soldier would in reaction to gunfire.

Someone had just died.

His stomach plummeted as he covered his mouth, trying to muffle his breathing. It seemed Sarah had managed to kill one of their pursuers in co... self-defense. That felt quite jarring. No amount of training could prepare him for the heat of the moment. To accept that he might have to kill someone in order to survive or finish an assignment. He couldn't explain what he really felt right now, but the only word which came close was... _Unfair._

As he ruminated the unfairness of the situation, he moved the young man's body into a discreet spot, out of sight.

_This is all so... so unfair._

He turned his head up, as his ears caught a buzzing sound in the distance. His blood began rushing through him, annoyingly pulsing in his ears as he tried to discern what he was hearing. A moment later, he identified footsteps along with the sound of someone being dragged on the ground.

He silently removed the glasses from his pocket. It had been a while since he dropped this project and he had no idea how much use they'd be right now. The device's lack of recent use could cause it to malfunction, or perhaps it lacked a crucial degree of versatility in relation to the situation at hand. But if it helped him mitigate his way through the crisis, that would be good enough for him.

_Alright, I hope this still works._

Chuck donned his glasses and tapped the bridge to activate them. Adjusting the built-in camera with its touchpad, he tried to stretch his vision as far as he could. The device could be adjusted for contrast, brightness and zoom, and even had a night-vision mode if needed.

Initially, his vision was blurry and the resolution terrible. However, the quality started to improve as the lenses began readjusting themselves. Miraculously, the smart algorithm he had created still worked, making him so giddy he began to feel nauseous. CIPS was not a waste of time and money, despite what his so-called superiors claimed.

_Wow, this thing is a godsend.__ I__t still works like a charm!_

He was shocked to a standstill as he took in his surroundings with a mini-binocular view. Judging by his camera feed, there were still four enemies left to deal with.

_OK, now let's see what else we have here... 1, 2, 3, 4... 4 bodies- No, don't think about them like that. Not yet. Not now. Perhaps they were just... incapacitated or knocked out._

Chuck squeezed his eyes. The last thing he needed right now was to tie himself in knots.

The 21.5 megapixel camera still worked wonders with the auto focus features he spent so long perfecting. He felt closer than ever to the scene. So close, in fact, that an idiotic part of him wanted to stretch out and grab one of their legs.

His thoughts were interrupted as somebody – a woman, judging by the silhouette – was being dragged into the dark alleyway by a man who was notably tall. He also noticed Mauser giving orders to everyone else. _Looks like he's the one in charge._ The rest of them looked quite pleased with themselves. As the shortest of the other men started laughing, the tallest one returned from the alleyway and turned to him, silencing him without a word. There was also a female assailant among the group. She was apparently the strong, silent type, never letting her gun drop.

Chuck momentarily stopped breathing. There was only one person that silhouette could belong to. Fear and anxiety overloaded his system as he felt the inside of his mouth dry up. He felt scared, intimidated and powerless all over again, just like he did when Bryce slept with Jill and framed him for stealing those tests.

He hissed, cursing himself inwardly for not anticipating this kind of situation in time.

_Damn it, Sarah!_

_...xxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxx..._

Sarah seriously hated waking up to find herself at the mercy of an enemy agent.

She had no control of her body. As much as she willed it to move, there was no reaction whatsoever. At first, her vision was too blurry to identify anything with; eventually, the amorphous shapes in her sight began taking form, like pieces of a puzzle assembling themselves. She didn't know how long she'd been unconscious for; only that if she were anyone else, she'd be long dead by now.

As soon as her vision came into focus, Sarah tried to understand where she was. Instead of freeing herself, she took the time to inspect her surroundings, hoping to formulate some plan of escape. A few minutes later, she slumped forward on her knees. Her hands had been cuffed together at an awkward angle, which put pressure on her arms and made it harder to move around.

"Greetings and salutations, Mrs Anderson. Or should I call you Sarah Walker?" Mauser smiled as his associates around him sneered at the incapacitated spy.

Sarah was not about to let some nobody intimidate her. "Fine. I take it you have heard of me through your _sources_."

"Absolutely, Agent Walker. You are a pretty wild thing that came into this city like a charging animal. No intelligence. No discipline. No respect." He smirked, taking out a stun gun. The device crackled with electricity. "Despite all that, you have impressed our group with your rampage. It's quite unfortunate that one of our benefactors wants you. That said, we might be able to convince him otherwise if you agree to lend us your skills in exchange."

"You plan to use me?" Sarah was starting to get outraged.

"We like to help people realize their potential. Like you. The infamous wildcard enforcer of Langston Graham. It's about time you accepted your true calling, don't you think? Naturally, we will also make you rich beyond your wildest dreams." Mauser smiled. "Just like your former lover, before he failed his most important task."

Her eyes snapped open as her entire body started quivering with rage. Fueled by anger and hurt, she spun and kicked one of Mauser's associates – a short man, to be exact – onto the ground.

"You... son... of... a bitch..." She reared back to kick again, only for Mauser to grab her by the shoulders. He tasered her on the neck, causing her to cry in agony and double over in pain as her body went rigid.

It was a sensation she was all too familiar with. As her eyes closed, she wished that the madness would end. Even before becoming a spy, she spent a decade in a bad household. She had learned a few tricks to help her fight back, to endure. Even back then, she wouldn't have been that easy to break.

She had always been unsure about the nature and extent of her feelings for Chuck. Even during her relationship with Bryce, thoughts of him always lingered in her mind. He seemed like the only man who could ever understand her and truly connect with her.

_Chuck, I wish you could read my mind right now._

"Open your eyes, Agent Walker! You can't escape reality." The female assailant grabbed her by the back of her neck, causing her to yelp in pain.

_I am seeing you..._ _T__he__ day you left Harvard, you looked at me but I couldn't muster the strength to look back at you. At that moment, you all but disappeared from my life and it took five long years for us to meet again... and now that you have finally spoken to me, I've been taken away._

"You feel it, don't you? The impending doom that awaits you if you continue to be a bad girl." Mauser grinned maliciously.

_I regret not having the courage to show up at Burbank. _With that confession to herself sorted, she opened her eyes and spoke to Mauser in a condescending tone.

"Was that all? You really don't know how to entertain, do you?"

"Darn. Ungh... She's a feisty one, isn't she?" The short male associate got back on his feet, still clutching his side in pain.

"It's alright, Rob. You know how much I enjoy taming wild animals like her." Mauser rubbed his hands in glee, a sadistic grin emerging on his face.

All of a sudden, the walkie talkie on his side belt came to life as a thick raspy voice boomed through it.

**"I see. In that case, do you enjoy chemistry as well, mousy boy?"**

Frank and his associates jumped back in shock. Their heads swiveled and they kept their guns close. That transmission was on the channel they used to communicate with each other.

The tall man turned to the other three. "Do you think she already called for backup?"

"It doesn't matter. We have jammers all over the place so no one is coming to help. It must be that buffoon boyfriend of hers." Mauser scoffed at his fearful colleague.

**"Who I am doesn't really matter, mousy boy. Let me ask you the million-dollar question: What happens when you mix ammonia with bleach?"**

All four FULCRUM agents blinked in confusion, taken aback by such a ridiculous question.

Before they could realize what was going on, a shadowy but extremely agile figure jumped down from a nearby tree, yanking the tails of cable ties attached to him, as if he was pulling a grenade clip. With accurate aim, he lobbed a bottle of the noxious mixture at the group. He then locked eyes with the blonde woman on the floor, giving her a quick nod of acknowledgement before back pedaling in short order.

Mauser swiftly turned around and locked eyes with the shadowy individual. As suspected, it was that same brown-haired buffoon who moments earlier kicked a basketball into his groin. The buffoon smirked at him and gave him the one-figured salute, then threw a second bottle to the ground and scampered off.

Like the first bottle, the second smashed on contact with the ground and released a thick mixture of greenish-yellow gas into the surrounding area, all but rendering the FULCRUM agents blind as they couldn't see anywhere past their noses. Seconds later, repetitive sounds of coughing and gagging filled the air.

Chuck smiled, hiding in the spot where he liberally sprayed air freshener. It wasn't enough to completely offset the side effects of his improvised weapon, but it was the best he could do at short notice.

The short man and woman were the first to hobble out. Their eyes were bulging out of their sockets and they gasped for air as they collapsed to the ground. The woman made a decent fist of getting back on her feet, until the shadow from earlier knocked her out with a frying pan to the head.

Chuck stood still. He could still hear Sarah and someone else coughing, whilst his own lungs were also somewhat desperate for oxygen. Upon identifying that someone else as the tall man (who it seemed was suffering the most), he took care of him with a well-timed bottle of chilli sauce.

As he stood there, he realized something didn't feel right. Suddenly, he detected loud footsteps heading in his direction and spun around to find an enraged Mauser – complete with bloodshot eyes – charging towards him from the side like a rampaging rhino. As instilled in him by his training, Chuck grabbed Mauser's fists as the FULCRUM agent leapt towards him, then struck him with a roundhouse kick to the chin.

Mauser staggered backwards in pain, then spat out a mouthful of blood.

"I am done playing games, you little shit!"

Before Chuck could retort, his eyes fell on his wrist watch... which triggered an Intersect flash.

_Second Generation iPod_

_Operation Scorpion reports to leader_

_Operation Black Briar reports to leader_

_Satellite __maps_

_Blueprints of a highly secured facility located in suburb_

_Automatic rifle_

_Second Generation iPod_

He held the back of his head in pain, his sight turning blurry.

_NO NO NO! This can't be happening to me!_

He dashed towards Mauser in an attempt to strike him with a haymaker, which the stockier man dodged with ease. Unfortunately for Chuck, his latest flash had impaired his fighting skill.

A sharp blow impacted his stomach, causing him to slide several feet along the ground. He felt like he was about to spill his guts out and the flash-induced pain he felt inside his head wasn't going anywhere. He got back up slowly on trembling legs. After a short interlude of heavy breathing, Chuck attempted to fight back with telegraphed punches that Mauser evaded easily. Without warning, he suffered a ferocious barrage of punches and kicks – through which he struggled to stay conscious – then was grabbed by the neck and smashed head-first against the wall.

His head dropped, blood was dripping from his nose and mouth, and his vision was fading. In what was surely his last act of defiance, he raised his head and spat in Mauser's face.

_Shit!__ I'm s__orry Ellie, Morgan, Dad... Sarah. I failed you all!_

"Say goodby–"

What happened next took both men completely by surprise. A black leather belt seemingly appeared out of thin air, looped around Mauser's neck, and violently constricted his windpipe.

As Chuck's vision returned to normal, his eyes fell upon a most welcome sight.

"Not on my watch, you bastard!"

Sarah Walker – in spite of being beaten, bruised, battered and hindered by the effects of the gas cloud – was choking the shit out of his tormentor.

Chuck had never felt as much respect for this woman as he did right this moment.

_She truly is incredible!_

_...xxxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxx..._


	18. Chapter 18

**The Inevitable Destiny.**

He groggily rubbed his eyes as the surroundings started making sense to him. His body – the left side in particular – was reeling from the pain Mauser had inflicted upon him; it seemed like his ribs were mostly intact, though he probably needed to see a doctor before long. Slowly but surely, his ability to move around was improving, reminding him of the many recovery sessions he had been through during federal agent training.

In spite of the lingering smoke cloud, the silhouettes of Sarah and Mauser were still recognizable; their fight was now akin to an angry lioness pouncing on a helpless rabbit. Mauser may have been a formidable fighter (as Chuck's bruises proved), but Sarah was truly in a league of her own; she had youth on her side, as well as a natural degree of tenacity that Mauser, for all his experience and strength, currently lacked. Furthermore, her movements were too quick to defend against or counter, and her grip appeared to be exceptionally strong. Right now, the large man was physically weaker and had more difficulty breathing; he had little energy to do more than flail weakly in response to her assault.

Generally speaking, Chuck did not enjoy seeing anyone in pain, but even he couldn't help but admit there was something oddly humorous about the sight of a predator being bested by its prey. A part of him found it disturbing how easily he had adapted to the sight of violence and bloodshed. The adrenaline rushing through his brain and the intensity of his heartbeat made him feel like he was in his element, at least in comparison to how he felt whilst writing reports and – surprisingly – coding software. He briefly wondered how much of that starry-eyed kid from Burbank was left, before quickly banishing all those unnecessary thoughts.

He knew it was important to identify who these people were. Their target might have been Sarah this time around, but they clearly had a vested interest in getting their hands on the Intersect – enough to steal it from, then destroy a highly secure top secret government facility. They were bound to come after him in due course, so he had to explore the other Intersect inside his head for details. Not before his savior finished taking care of Mauser, though.

In spite of the pungent smells that assaulted his olfactory organs, he headed towards the small man and searched his pockets. A moment later, he found a membership card for Club Ares, one of many business ventures owned by a shipping magnate named Yari Demetrios. Interestingly, one of Demetrios' other ventures was the catering company whose employees were in New York for that exhibition. The same company he filed a report on just the other day. He didn't know if an ambush or similarly foul event happened that day but his gut feeling was that Demetrios wasn't exactly a law abiding citizen. Perhaps his suspicions had some merit.

In addition, he found a rolled-up piece of parchment which had an address written on it. Not bothering to read the contents, he put it inside his front pocket.

He felt an all too familiar chill upon seeing an odd-looking Ford Crown Victoria in the parking lot. He once again scanned his surroundings. Everyone threatening was either dead or out cold. It was an odd feeling, as if someone was keeping an eye on him... before he shook his head in disbelief.

_Nah, that can't be true!_

There wasn't anything even remotely threatening around him. After reassuring himself once or twice, the feeling of anxiety and foreboding went away.

When he turned back to Sarah... Mauser was no more, as his lifeless body lay on the floor. His beady eyes had almost popped out due to the intense pressure on his throat. His expression would forever be locked in fear. Seeing his face still caked with bloody spit nearly put a hole through Chuck's stomach. It was a stark reminder that their situations could easily have been reversed if not for the timely intervention of his friend from Harvard.

Sarah wasn't exactly doing well either. Though she was in great shape compared to everyone else in the vicinity, it was hard to deny that she went through something borderline horrific. Her clothes were torn and frayed all over, albeit not to the extent of indecency.

_It must have taken a lot out of her._

Walking closer to her, Chuck knelt down, grabbed her less bloody hand, and squeezed it gently. He was in awe as he saw the blonde in a new light. With her face just inches away, he could still taste the sweetness of her aura; her scent and complexion radiated nothing but beauty. Her platinum blonde hair – despite how disheveled she looked otherwise – screamed perfection. Her warmth exuded comfort he hadn't felt in a long time, which was simultaneously terrifying and intoxicating to him.

He shook his head with a fond smile. "A-are you a-alright, Sarah?" His voice was shallow and broken, marked by laborious breathing. It seemed his throat hadn't completely recovered from Mauser's onslaught yet, but he forced himself to speak. "D-did they hurt you?"

"I-I..." The words couldn't form in her mouth. The thought struck her like a stick in the face. Chuck cared about her well-being. Not just that, he cared for her more than he cared for his own life. This realization left Sarah speechless, and in a shocking moment of clarity it dawned on her how incredibly stupid and brave this young man truly was. Her body sent warm prickles and cold chills over her skin at the same time.

She embraced him as hard as she possibly could.

"How could you do something like that?"

Chuck blinked in confusion as she looked at him with something akin to admiration, but returned the embrace regardless. He didn't know what to say to make her get over the shock she felt.

"I know that was one hell of a show, but it's all over now." He rolled his eyes with a bit of a laughter.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked in a voice filled with concern.

"Ha! I am the human epitome of nerdiness, equipped with the super deadly pan fu. I won't be taken down that easily."

With the total lack of grace only an immature young man could possibly manage – Chuck rolled up his sleeve, pressed his lips to his exposed bicep, inhaled deeply, then blew a raspberry.

The resulting wet, sloppy, fart-like noise was so loud that anyone listening from a distance would have believed he shit his pants.

Sarah tried to keep her guard up – she really did – but it cracked. Her resulting grin descended into giggles, which further descended into wheezing.

"You are an idiot!"

Chuck leaned back to catch his breath, coughing slightly in the process. "Don't be like that, Agent Walker! That was just my charming side showing up."

Winding down, she tried to go back to being guarded. She did her best to glare at him but failed miserably as he kept looking at her with childishly crossed eyes. Letting out a sigh, she placed her arm around his shoulders and supported him as they walked towards the car. She winced every time he limped, further impressing upon her his willingness to take on those dangerous assassins and endure so much pain, just to help her out. She felt like hitting him for making her so worried (once he healed); at the same time, she wanted want to kiss him senseless. In the meantime, it was best not to pay heed to that and simply focus on her current predicament.

Chuck took a deep breath as they walked together. It felt beyond awkward walking in silence with her. This was a woman who was a friend, a liar, a spy, an assassin, and a former lover of his arch nemesis. Though he hadn't given much thought to Bryce (or Jill, for that matter) since he discovered his wristwatch. Before they reached her car, Chuck spoke. There were things on his mind ever since he ran into Sarah at that club.

"Thanks." Chuck let it slip.

"No. You got into this situation because of me." Sarah turned away in a failed attempt to prevent Chuck from seeing her eyes water. "You nearly died..." She stopped and couldn't go on.

"Life is full of uncertainties. You shouldn't blame yourself for that." Chuck flashed an encouraging smile, causing Sarah to tilt her head towards him as they walked. "I thought about what you said before those jerks showed up. I guess I developed a habit of keeping people at arm's length, but you coming back... changed things for me."

Sarah said nothing, merely watching him in astonishment.

"It's really strange. But you made me feel something again. I don't know what to call it. Maybe it's affection. Maybe it's happiness, or perhaps I just enjoy being distracted like this. Anyway, you made me finally realize that I have been alone for a long time. Whatever it is, I want to thank you for that."

Sarah beamed at him. Regardless of what they had been through recently, she couldn't help but feel affected by Chuck telling her something like that. She stared back at him longingly, cupping his cheek with her hand.

"I know you don't want anything bad to happen to me. I guess that's why you didn't want to go out with me in the first place. I will admit, it doesn't make any sense that you feel like that. But I don't think it matters anymore. You can trust me."

Before Chuck could come up with a proper response to that, slow clapping occurred. The human Intersect sharply narrowed his eyes as a familiar mean-looking man with a predatory grin stepped out of the Crown Victoria he spotted earlier.

"Bravo..." He taunted. "Like something straight out of a soap opera."

"Casey?" Chuck frowned.

"Been a while, Golden Boy!" The hulking figure smiled at him before brandishing his own handgun. "How's it been?"

...xxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxxx...


	19. Chapter 19

** Interlude: Trip down the memory lane**

Trying her best to run as fast as she possibly could, she stopped near the door that led to the wedding venue, only sparing a few moments to catch her breath. She desperately began searching for Chuck. She didn't barge in for fear of sticking out like a sore thumb, given how elegantly dressed everyone was; in contrast, she was clad in a simple leather jacket. She didn't want to embarrass Chuck even more than she already had.

While the wedding ensued and a romantic song started playing, she saw him standing there, surrounded by his sister and her friends. And to her shock, it didn't seem like he missed having her around at all. She just couldn't believe how much he had been enjoying himself, how content he looked just being there. He just stood there, happily chatting with one of Ellie's groupies, who was standing a bit too close to him for her comfort. At least he was trying to maintain a respectable distance between them.

Lou knew quite well he was too much of a gentleman to even consider cheating on her, but seeing how perfectly happy he seemed attending this event, despite her not being there, hit her like a ton of bricks.

She was beyond crestfallen.

She couldn't help but feel that was her fault. She was the one who outright refused to come with him just for the sake of going on a mission (which she wasn't required to participate in). It turned out to be a routine DEA operation. Yes, Gaez's associates were involved in drug distribution and human trafficking, but that was just another Wednesday for them. And to make matters worse, she failed to get any dirt on that backstabbing blonde bimbo. As she initially suspected, Graham's enforcer didn't leave any trails behind; the double agent was still one step ahead.

Lou never stood a chance in the first place.

She should have gone with Chuck. If she did, she might have been part of something special, something extraordinarily romantic which would have made them look like two spirits made for one another.

Like Chuck's pigheaded sister and her fiancé.

But now she had lost that moment. A moment which might have taken their relationship one step further.

_Adventures would always call out to me and Chuck would always want to keep normalcy in his life._

She was frustrated. She felt like she was losing Chuck with each passing moment and just didn't know how to stop it from happening. To stop him from leaving her.

After seeing the wedding unfold for a moment, watching the happy and very-much-in-love couple lean in for a shared kiss, she finally turned away from the scene. She silently walked along the hallway, feeling more miserable than she had ever been. Not even the day she was humiliated and nearly thrown into supermax prison by the backstabbing bitch she once called her best friend induced anywhere near as much heartbreak as she felt right now.

As she finally passed through the doors and out into the night, she looked back for one last moment, trying to pull herself together. She tried her hardest to breathe while giving out a low sniffle. She desperately wiped away the tears coursing down her cheeks unchecked. She finally reached her motorcycle, wiping the tears away one last time, hoping they would stop for once and all.

Unfortunately for her, they never stopped even as she drove.

...xxxxxx...xxxxx...xxxxxx...

Chuck immediately returned to his apartment, feeling exhausted after what felt somewhat like being on a battleground. Upon hearing that his date didn't come, one of Ellie's eligible friends decided to accompany him on the assumption that he was suffering from an unhappy relationship. She had offered him a free physical, which he briefly considered accepting until he realized what _kind_ of physical it would have been. Hell, the woman was truly gorgeous and had an impressive rack that threatened to burst out of her top whenever she'd been rubbing against him. He drove her away by triggering the 'Jill' effect and projecting the black hole of nerdiness every female he ever met was scared shitless of getting sucked into.

Needless to say, that method always worked wonders for him.

He played the role of "heartbroken man unable to get over his first love" a little too well, even for his liking. It truly felt like a second skin. Sometimes he even felt more comfortable while doing so to get Ellie to forgive him more easily when he couldn't make it to important occasions because of work.

_Damn! I gotta be careful. At this rate I might turn into a habitual liar._

He sighed upon seeing a figure sitting on the sofa with most of the lights off. To anyone else, that scene might have looked like something straight out of some creepy slasher flick, Morgan forced him to watch every weekend back in their high school days but fortunately, in this case, Chuck had some inkling of what this whole thing was about.

He turned on the lights, letting out another sigh upon seeing an extremely miserable, morose-looking Lou sitting there, clad in a dark-brown leather jacket and jeans. He noticed her tear-stricken face and quickly made an educated guess. It helped that he had grown up in a household run by a strong-willed, highly capable, independent woman. And while it rarely happened since last few years, he had witnessed the seemingly perfect couple- Mr and Mrs Awesome- having some very nasty fights in particular. Despite usually remaining very much calm and collected, his sister had a fiery temper. There were a few times Devon didn't have much choice but to bring him in as a peacemaker.

_Is she still upset about what happened in the morning? Oh no...this seems to be about something else altogether._

"You somehow finished the mission earlier than planned and made it to the venue." Chuck said casually, making a well educated guess, given how much time they used to spend together, he surely knew about his girlfriend's personality like back of his hand ."You saw me dancing with someone else and now you are pissed."

Lou kept staring at the ground, not showing any reaction at all. She still looked visibly distraught over something.

"I didn't cheat on you. Nothing happened between me and Rebecca. I didn't even know..." Chuck said as he moved closer to her but Lou interrupted him before he could speak any further.

"Remember what you said in the morning..." She spoke in a hoarse voice, appearing to be drunk as a skunk. stumbling in their reeking of alcohol "About us being two different people?"

Chuck shook his head. He knew this wasn't going to go well.

"I think you were right." Lou responded sadly as she stood up. "Any other guy could have approached me and I would be like... screw you. But you... you on the other hand... are... something else altogether." She chuckled. "For the longest time, I have pined after you like a dog wanting to chase a fire hydrant. And that doesn't even sound funny right now."

Chuck was completely aghast upon seeing his ever elegant and graceful teacher, lover and above all that, dear friend in a situation like this.

"It's OK, Chuck. I understand... I am not mad." She slurred her words, not even able to keep her eyes open as she spoke. "I... know." She stretched her body in a cat-like manner, trying her hardest to not pass out. "Even your sister does. She is quite good at reading people, isn't she? She sees me for _what_ I truly am. That's why... I detest her the most. I really am not good enough for you anymore, am I?" She started stumbling and was about to lose her balance before Chuck caught her.

"Lieutenant... Lou." Chuck held her gently, looking into her eyes. He tried his best to make her regain focus but her head just kept tilting back. "Just get some sleep, okay? I will prepare some ginger lemon tea for you."

"Is this what I'm supposed to get from my boyfriend? Sympathy disguised as affection?" She let out a humorless chuckle.

"I know you are upset, but you shouldn't be. I am here for you." Chuck tried his best to reassure her, gently stroking her forehead.

"I may not love you but there is one thing I am incredibly good at."

Chuck shook his head. She was just rambling at this point. "Come on, let's get you to bed. We will have a nice chat tomorrow."

"In fact, I am on a whole other level compared to everyone else when it comes to _that_." She grinned mischievously, trying to undo his pants. "So let's do go to bed."

Chuck gasped as he grabbed her hands, stopping her from moving them any further. "Louise Marie Bettignies! You need to take a rest, RIGHT NOW!" He cried, raising his voice towards the end.

All of a sudden she shoved him away with a surprising amount of strength, causing him to nearly fall over. "GO AWAY! GO AWAY! RUN TO THE SLUTTY FRIEND OF YOUR PIGHEADED SISTER!"

"Lieutenant, you need to calm down–"

"YOU CAN'T HANDLE A WOMAN LIKE ME, CHARLES IRVING BARTOWSKI! YOU WOULDN'T LAST A SINGLE DAY IN THE WORLD I LIVE IN! And I t-tried..." She paused to sob for a minute, then continued speaking. "And I tried so hard to get you to notice me, to get you to like me. But it was all a sham. Our relationship was based on nothing but meaningless sex. I am just lusting for you. This is all lust. You were right, Chuck. I don't love who you are, but what you are. I love the human Intersect and all the amazing things you can do with the computer in your head, not Chuck Bartowski, the person you truly are. Perhaps I never did in the first place."

"But I do love you, Lou." Chuck said, apparently quite distraught upon hearing her say all those things.

Lou calmed down when Chuck spoke those words to her, but she still remained sad. "You are a sweet guy. You really are. But it seems I have made a great liar out of you. You have learned not only to fool others but yourself as well. I certainly taught you well, didn't I?" She sighed miserably. "I will always be just an afterthought to you. A distraction holding you back from reaching your true potential... You are your father's son. You have a great and vulnerable destiny ahead of you. After a lot of drinking... sorry, _thinking..._" She babbled for a moment, momentarily unable to form a proper sentence, "...I can finally say what I should. I am just a mean, angry, spiteful woman. Don't let me corrupt you. You are meant to be a hero, Chuck." He shook his head. "I am serious. Get the hell out of my home and my life. Otherwise I will make you."

"You mean... I can't have a normal relationship with anyone because I am a freak with a computer stuck inside my brain? Is that what you are trying to insinuate?" Chuck snapped. He was really starting to get angry right now.

"You are a clever man, Charles. One day you will figure out what to do with your life. But I can't help you anymore. You'll have to figure it out on your own, or with someone you can trust."

"I don't have anyone to share my secrets with." Chuck whispered, almost as if he was begging her to let him stay. "You are the only friend I have, Lou. I don't have anywhere else to go."

Lou didn't even bother looking up as she pointed towards the guest room. "I already packed your luggage. Please leave, Chuck. Don't make me _make you_."

While Chuck felt a little angry, he bore no ill will towards her. He was disappointed at how Lou chose to conduct herself but couldn't bring himself to hate her. Throughout his life, he had the gift of looking beyond a person's outer persona and meeting someone so similar to him could only be destiny's work. He couldn't completely object to what she said but didn't believe the beautiful friendship between them was nothing but a sham. Nonetheless, he could also tell she had made her mind up; knowing how stubborn she could be, he knew better than to argue with her. He simply headed for the guest room to gather his stuff.

Even when he was about to head out, Lou faced the wall and refused to meet his gaze. He heard her speak for the last time once he stepped out of her apartment.

"Remember when I told you I would always be by your side, Chuck?"

"I do. As it turns out you are a much better liar than I could ever be." Chuck responded with a bitter smile. Sparing one final glance at her, he walked down the stairs. It was still night-time and he had no place to settle. And it wouldn't be easy to find a hotel that wasn't fully booked.

Feeling miserable, Chuck Bartowski wandered around the streets of Washington DC for an hour or two, in the ridiculous suit he wore to Arthur Woodcomb Jr's wedding. Everywhere seemed to be full. He just couldn't find a place to stay no matter how hard he tried.

He finally sat down on a parking bench near a garden, trying to think of what to do. He looked at his smartphone and called Devon. He seemed to have a lot of friends in DC so he might be able to help him out.

After a minute of ringing, it went to voicemail.

_"__Hello, this is Dr Devon Woodcomb. I am not available to talk right now__–__"_

Chuck immediately hung up. He figured Devon was dealing with a medical emergency or – more likely on this particular day – he and Ellie were enjoying their first night of _happy time_ as newly-weds.

"Great. Who else am I supposed to call? Morgan? Nah, dude still practically lives with his mom. I doubt he knows anyone in DC who would let me in at this hour." Chuck muttered. Slightly leaning back to relax, he took a deep long breath before staring at the moon above, then at the electronic device attached to his wrist.

"Ha! Your son is on a roll, Dad! Another relationship down the drain." Chuck let out a dejected sigh as a deep frown replaced his usually cheerful and carefree expression. "Is this what I am destined to become, Stephen? A freak who keeps getting left behind by everyone he cares for? I know you are still somewhere. I know you are still keeping an eye on me. Things have not been going that well for your son, as you probably know. You must have your reasons for not helping, but who else am I supposed to turn to?"

As if on cue, the watch's screen flashed bright red, expressing displeasure at his tone.

Shocked, Chuck wondered if his father was truly capable of communicating with him through the device on his wrist. However, the screen simply went back to its original color, displaying the date and time.

"Dad, are you there?" Chuck asked, his eyes filled with awe and curiosity. This time, there were no changes in the screen color. Not even a flicker.

After asking multiple questions and receiving no answers to them, he started getting frustrated. Either the device really didn't work that way, or his father was now ignoring him. Regardless, he felt the need to vent. "Fine, you stupid old fart!" He cursed, raising a middle finger to the sky.

Staring into the device's screen, Chuck didn't recognize the eyes that stared back at him. They looked extremely similar to his own, marked by rage instead of depression. They seemed to be tired beyond exhaustion, unlike his own. A voice in his head told him that the eyes looking back at him belonged not to him, but to a certain man who had achieved things, who made scientific and technological breakthroughs left and right throughout his career, some of which he couldn't possibly imagine even in his wildest dreams. Yet at the same time, for some reasons only known to himself, he felt compelled to leave everything behind on a whim... including his children. The greatest innovations of all.

_Orion_

_...xxxxx...xxxx..._

**_Many thanks to my beta, LancerGaShinda_**


	20. Chapter 20

**Beta'ed by LancerGaShinda.**

**Thanks for your help and support :)**

**The Alteration**

"Been a while, Golden Boy!" Casey flashed a sickeningly sweet smile towards both of them. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

"Sure, as long as you get some Nunya medicine for that stalk-itus of yours." Chuck rolled his eyes in annoyance. His day had gone down the drain ever since the Rambo wannabe showed up at Ft Belvoir this morning. He had been dragged to Ft Meade like a criminal, was threatened with being cloistered inside a bunker, and then dropped off in the middle of nowhere like trash. In addition, he and Sarah had been assailed by a group of assassins. Thanks to what was almost certainly a serious incompatibility issue between his two Intersects, he was beaten to the brink of death by their leader and survived only because Sarah came to his rescue in the nick of time. And after all that, this jerk wouldn't even allow him to have a moment of romance and normalcy.

_Darn! What did I ever do to deserve such ridicule and disrespect from these people?_

He could totally feel his inner Sith calling to him. Joining the dark side had never felt so tempting.

"Chuck... we better leave. Don't provoke this man any further. He is extremely dangerous," Sarah said desperately, her voice reeking of fear and anxiety as she pointed her own weapon towards her NSA counterpart.

For what felt like the hundredth time this past day or so, Chuck was dumbfounded. What sort of reputation preceded this man for it to have such an effect on Sarah Walker of all people?

"Hey. I'm only here to check up on Golden Boy and ask if he'd like a ride back home." Casey smirked, slowly moving closer to them. "A smart young man like you, Chuck, should do his best to avoid hanging out with the likes of her."

"Oh, I see." Chuck nodded and turned glum. _So this is all about that stupid inter-agency rivalry. Also, he waits until _now_ to offer me a ride home? Screw that._

He let out a sigh. He had to try and talk some sense into him, knowing the ill-tempered man may not take it well.

"Casey, I may not impress you much but it might surprise you to know that I know enough about the whole Intersect situation. We should let our superiors sort this out like responsible adults instead of engaging in this... gunslinger business. Leave the Wild West stuff for the movies. And trust me when I say there's bigger fish to fry than this inter-agency pissing match for possession of the Intersect."

Casey looked downright murderous. "I don't know why you've softened up to this CIA skank, but you need to consider your friends more carefully, moron!"

An infuriated Chuck turned red-hot from hearing that remark. For the first time, he felt determined to teach that jerk a lesson. _Nobody insults or messes with Sarah on my watch._

"She protected me when it really mattered, which makes her more of a soldier than a petty, hateful individual like you could ever be!"

_Hey. I am right here!_ Sarah wanted to call out. But at the same time, she couldn't help but feel appreciative towards Chuck. The blood ran to her face – not for the first time where he was concerned, despite the fact she was not given to blushing. Especially in a situation like this. Sarah felt like she was running a fever.

Casey, on the other hand, seemed a bit too pleased with himself as he spoke further. "Good for her. I'm a Marine. More importantly, Bartowski, you're making a huge mistake here. I doubt you know what kind of skeletons your new _friend_ might have in her closet. So let me just give you some juicy details about her career. Especially in regards to... her former lover."

Sarah was starting to get incredibly upset and angry. She barely held her tears back, tightening her grip on her preferred firearm.

"He is wrong, Chuck! Whatever he says, don't listen! I will never betray you." She pulled him back by holding onto his shirt.

"One sentence says it all. Just one sentence." Casey remained adamant.

"NO! Don't make it personal with me, Casey! You might not live to regret it!" Sarah yelled in a half-threatening, half-pleading manner. She was on the verge of a meltdown.

"Here's the thing, Chuck. Agent Walker and your good ol' roommate from Stanford did some... very interesting stuff together. Some bad... some freaky bad." Casey's smile turned menacing towards the end.

Chuck remained silent. Casey waited patiently, bearing a smug smile on his face. Sarah's face was red and she sniffled back a sob. She felt ashamed and couldn't look Chuck in the eye. Who would in that situation? She tried to think of a good explanation, to no avail. Her head hung low. She seemed like she really wanted to disappear right there and then. The pounding in her ears was silenced, as if her heart had stopped beating.

_Today could have been the best day of my life, until this... all this had to happen._

Needless to say, seeing Graham's Wildcard Enforcer like this brought nothing but great satisfaction to Casey. He had defeated the so-called ace of the CIA without engaging in hand-to-hand or armed combat. He couldn't help but give himself a pat on the back for doing his homework a bit too well.

And yet, to both agents' shock – despite receiving such big news – Chuck hardly reacted. He only wore a frustrated, tired look on his face. The Intersect bearer looked into Sarah's eyes, which clearly exuded desperation and sadness.

"Assuming I am this supposed jealous boyfriend of yours like my NSA friend believes, even though we were never together in that way... how did that end up happening?"

Sarah shriveled under that look of his. It reminded her of all those times when her father felt she let him down. Not angry, not hateful; just very disappointed. She had to speak the truth. It was the only thing that made sense.

"He was recruited in the agency under a top secret military project so I never got to learn...his real name until...he went AWOL and decided to go rogue. He didn't even tell me ...he attended Stanford to begin with. I thought.. there was a vulnerable, human side to him. He wanted to help out, to be a good man like you," she said quietly. "that's why...we eventually started dating later down the road. Trust me Chuck, If only I managed to learn about his real...

"Were you ever going to tell me about this?" Chuck raised an eyebrow, interrupting Sarah before she could continue further with her clarification.

Sarah couldn't process everything that was going on in her head. She remained silent.

"So... one day, it just happened." Chuck repeated her words and began to nod, then sighed. "Depending on how you look at a person, their worth changes. I guess you saw something in him while he was still a loyal agency operative and a reliable partner, and you only got to learn about him being the same scumbag who ruined my life back at Stanford, after he fully gave into the dark side . Fine, I get that. That's not a big deal. Though, as a friend, I would have preferred hearing about stuff like that from you first."

Sarah looked incredulous, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief. "Chuck... I betrayed the bond we once had. I should have been more careful about the man who was supposed to be my partner and boyfriend . I should have known he was using a cover name, _just like me. _Everything I knew about him was a lie, still I decided to put my faith in him. How could you take everything in stride just like that?"

Chuck held out his hands in a "what else you were expecting me to do" gesture as he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Eh. I guess I tend to go beyond people's expectations a lot these days."

Casey frowned, staring at Chuck with a miffed expression on his face. This was not how he expected the revelation of Walker's past to go. He was so going to murder the analyst who claimed Stanford was Bartowski's hot button, and that his resentment of Larkin could be used to keep the CIA out of the loop. Unfortunately, the mind games he worked so hard to play were all for naught.

"I commend you for your positive mindset, Golden Boy." The NSA's ace operative called out to him, a condescending sneer emerging on his face. "But it's so damn unrealistic."

Instead of replying, Chuck focused on the black onyx bracelet around Casey's upper arm, triggering a flash. Francis "Frank" Mauser was a career soldier and member of the Wolf Pack – the US Government's foremost counterterrorism unit, comprised of the best operatives from all branches of the military and intelligence agencies. It was a team responsible for resolving some of the worst hostage crises in recent times, saving over a thousand lives and killing many more terrorists.

The very same team which had gone rogue and was responsible not only for the recent theft of the next-gen tank plans, but their smuggling out of the US with aid from the Demetrios shipping business.

The very same team whose former second-in-command, Special Agent Tommy Delgado, recruited Bryce Larkin to steal the government Intersect for FULCRUM.

The very same team which had brought in a certain notorious bomb-maker to do some... pretty explosive stuff in a celebratory 60th anniversary NATO event.

Chuck felt a sharp pang in his head and his heart was pounding. _Oh man! What now? It probably means whatever's coming is really bad!_

He really hoped it wouldn't come to that. He really wished he could ignore it. He knew the terror, whatever it was, was quite intense.

One thing was certain – he had to confront it, one way or another.

If he informed both agents of the government Intersect inside his head, he might find himself under far more government scrutiny than he already was; if he didn't, a lot of people might end up dying.

On the surface, it was a tough decision to make. Ultimately, given his character, Chuck's choice was obvious.

_I hope you don't get too mad, Admiral..._

...xxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxxx...

Casey growled darkly. Bartowski was spending too long dealing with his headache. It was time to bring an end to this assignment and move on.

"I don't know what you are trying to pull here, Mr Bartowski," he grunted. "You think too highly of yourself. You may have some potential but you aren't that special."

Chuck gave an exasperated sigh. He was beginning to get restless. "Let me explain this in layman's terms. Our minds can absorb information depending on our interest with regard to what it's about. If the information is exciting one can absorb it faster and better. It's the flow, the rate, the volume of information a mind can take in. There have been many discussions about accelerating or enhancing this process in the field of neural engineering and computational neuroscience. In the right circumstances, a human brain can – in theory – be tricked into absorbing a LOT of information like a computer through the usage of enhanced subliminal imagery specifically crafted by someone who knows about the human brain. Like a neurosurgeon, for example."

Sarah stared at him intensely. Chuck could see her entire face up close. Her eyes, captivating as they were deadly, bore into his. Filled with nothing but regret and pain.

"Those pictures were... encoded with highly classified intel. Government secrets no one was supposed to know. But if what you are telling us is true, that means you know them."

The Intersect bearer couldn't help but wonder how the CIA agent was feeling right now. Was she worried? Was she scared? Or was she considering turning him in?

"The man who is supposed to rebuild the Intersect now has it in his head. That's... problematic."

Chuck frowned at Casey, who had towered over him for the last few moments (despite their near-identical heights). He was bewildered to see his expression starting to soften; just a little, yes, but it was still surprising.

The NSA agent, who by reputation was a cold-blooded assassin – in Mauser's league or better, if that flash was anything to go by – took a napkin from his pocket and gave it to him. Only then did Chuck realize he had a nosebleed.

"What are you guys waiting for? A huge ass bomb is about to go off," he said while trying not to sound too erratic. He was about to make haste, but Sarah grabbed him from behind before he could take a step.

"Whoa! What do you think you are trying to do?" She demanded in a stern tone.

"I want to make sure a lot of people don't die today. That's all I am trying to do." Chuck said as softly as he possibly could.

"Are you out of your mind, moron? Whatever's happening is dangerous. And who is going to fix the Inter–"

"I can't explain any of this to you. You wouldn't understand. I just want to make sure everyone and everything is okay." Chuck cut the larger man off in exasperation. He wished he could explain to Sarah and Casey the newfound morals he gained throughout these years. He wished they could see things as he saw things. Eventually he realized he was living in the real world. His ideals wouldn't be understandable to anyone.

_Maybe Lou was the only one who understood me._

Sarah appeared quiet throughout the whole ordeal. It was time for her to speak. Chuck was about to go off again when she appeared in front of him, then gently stroked his cheek. Despite the urgency of the situation, he still couldn't help but enjoy how her hands felt.

"You say we don't understand, but it might surprise you greatly to know that I always did. I still do." Sarah replied in a firm tone, glaring indignantly towards Casey who just rolled his eyes in response. "We are the ones who get paid to keep bombs from exploding and keeping you safe is our top priority right now."

"Enough of the cheesy crap and just get in the car."

Chuck didn't know what to do or say. Of course the agents wanted to come along, given his importance to their respective agencies. And he couldn't have stopped Sarah from joining in even if he wanted to. At the same time, he was starting to panic about what could possibly happen to him if the other Intersect inside his head got exposed as well. He had to be extremely discreet in case he stumbled upon the bomb. As soon as he had the chance, he would disappear and disable the bomb without any of them knowing. For that, Chuck had no choice. He had no more time to waste.

"Let's go." He reluctantly nodded, sparing one last glance at the wrist watch on his right arm.

_I hope I am ready for what is to come... Dad._

...xxxx...xxxxx...xxxxx...


	21. Chapter 21

**Beta'ed by my good friend LancerGaShinda**

**Thanks for your help and support.**

**The Spontaneous.**

Chuck could feel a rush of adrenaline spreading into his veins like molten metal. It was a new beginning. He could feel it inside of him. He could sense it. Many things, both good and tragic, had happened to him ever since he left Stanford as a disgraced and heartbroken man. The revelation of his father's true identity kept him focused. It made him humble about his own achievements. It also made him hardened, allowing him to acquire strength and a will to overcome potential trials and tribulations, though there were times his self doubt made him wonder if he was truly up to the task. Still, ever since he had been embedded with the special quirks brought on by a highly sophisticated technology left by his father, Chuck had learned how to multitask. Not that he had much choice.

He tried burying the anxiety of what might happen to him once this was all over. That, and trying to constantly reassure himself about being capable of facing whatever it may be, even though a logical and rational part of him knew that might not turn out to be the case. He then focused his attention on where the bomb could be. Paying attention to the tiniest detail was important. Right now, in order to resolve this crisis, he had to utilize his abilities to their fullest and use every single resource at his disposal.

The G Intersect – his moniker for the iteration he downloaded not 24 hours ago – was no exception.

_Perhaps it's about time I let the world see what I am truly capable of._

Whilst sprinting through the hallway with a degree of grace and agility easily rivaling that of a modern-day Olympian, he scanned his surroundings. He had no idea how he was going to find that bomb. _No..._ He wanted to curse out. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. There had to be some way of discovering where the maniac had put it. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying his best to recall the building's blueprints (which he flashed on during the altercation with Casey just a few moments prior).

The flash hit him hard, causing him to fall on his knees; however, he somehow managed to regain his balance at the last moment.

Sarah immediately caught up to him, grabbing him from behind. "What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asked in a voice mixed with concern and panic.

Chuck shook his head. That didn't hurt anywhere near as much as it did last time. Perhaps he got the hang of how the G Intersect worked, or he was well on his way. There was still a sliver of hope. The last thing he needed right now was to suffer the crippling effects of another dual-Intersect conflict, given how much time and effort it took for him to learn how to properly utilize his dad's creation (the O Intersect, as he now called it).

"I am fine. I am fine, Sarah. I just had the right flash at the wrong moment."

Casey panted. It seemed like he wanted to say something but he was already out of breath. His face was flushed. His feet were aching and probably swollen. In fact, it was more accurate to say the larger man was stumbling forward, rather than running; such was his physical state that Chuck felt compelled to comment.

"Your physical stamina is pathetic, Major."

"Don't push your luck, Moron!" Casey growled, looking at the Bartowski male's easy breathing and slight amount of sweat in annoyance and envy. He did not like what he was seeing.

_If only I were a few years younger..._

He really needed to hit the gym and start working on improving his leg strength and stamina. There was no way in hell that he, a highly distinguished Marine, was going to let some bratty civilian get one over him. His reputation as the NSA's ace operative was at stake for crying out loud!

There was no way in hell he was going to let a little nerd outpace him like that. Nope. Never again.

Chuck just smiled slightly in response. The Major was rather sharp-tongued, rude and impatient; in short, far from the nicest individual. Chuck liked to think he was pretty good at dealing with unsociable individuals, so nothing short of being designated target practice could truly faze him. People's taunts and barbs generally flowed off of him, and so far he hadn't tried to severely hurt or injure him. Though that might be due to the fact even someone like Casey knew his boundaries well and certainly wasn't stupid enough to try anything which might invoke the ultimate wrath of Uncle Sam. Or perhaps people like him were just protecting their hidden warm center with a tough shell. In Chuck's opinion, the former theory was most likely.

"Chuck, what did you flash on?" Sarah asked with urgency in her voice.

"I didn't know the Intersect worked like that. I might know where he will strike. But first, I need you guys to trust me." Chuck replied with a confident grin, a determined look appearing on his face as he gently took Sarah's hand into his own.

Sarah was aware they could die at any moment. She didn't know why, but the feeling that she would be okay began spreading from his hand through her whole body. She trusted him. Indeed, despite her nature, she trusted him enough to handle the situation; somehow, she felt compelled to take that drastic leap of faith. A huge sense of trust and warmth came over her, so she didn't say anything. She could only nod and look away from Chuck shyly.

"Find the damned bomb before I shoot you, dimwit. General Stanfield is about to take the stage." Casey grumbled.

"Aye aye, Sir. We at the NGA aim to please."

...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxx...

According to the G Intersect's intel, Andric was an infamous, very well known expert in building Improvised Explosive Devices. Such bombs – at least a certain variety of them – were comprised of conventional military explosives, such as artillery shells, and attached to a detonating mechanism. They had been deployed in and outwith conventional military conflicts. Building roadside bombs was a hobby of Andric's, which was no surprise given his long history with guerrilla warfare. Knowing his MO, Chuck could tell how vicious Andric truly was; he liked to hit where it hurt most. Which meant he probably placed the device somewhere around the center of the room for maximum casualties.

But where exactly?

As if a prayer had been answered, Chuck heard something beep. Someone like him, for whom the technology was just another way of living, could feel the ominous undertone to that beep deep inside his guts. He immediately stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell upon a serving tray, conveniently placed in the middle of the room. The perfect place for a psychotic bomber to hide his preferred weapon of doom.

_Well, what do you know? Prayers do get answered._

"Uh... this is it."

Chuck pointed it out as Sarah and Casey immediately rushed towards the serving tray, opening it up. They came face to face with the device, which was certainly armed. It consisted of fifty pounds of C4 as well as a MacBook, on which a countdown of five minutes and thirty seconds (and counting) was visible.

Chuck looked at Sarah's face. Fear and panic was all he could see flashing in her beautiful eyes. It didn't look good. It didn't look good at all.

Neither Sarah nor Casey ever came across such a complex triggering mechanism throughout their whole careers. Needless to say, they were completely at a loss about how to proceed.

"Uh, the EOD squad is about to show up, right?" Chuck asked nervously, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

Casey grunted in response, "Not in time. Any ideas?"

"Disconnect the laptop." Sarah quickly suggested.

"A bomb disposal team in Prague tried it once last year; it turned out to be a booby trap." Chuck interjected, recalling the incident from his previous flash about the bomb schematics.

Sarah, a bit startled upon hearing that at first, gave him an appreciative look. Even Casey looked a little impressed.

"Chuck, you brought us here. Is there anything else you remember about the bomb?"

_Disconnect..._

Hearing that word made a huge light bulb go off in his head. While he couldn't disable the bomb without access to the proper tools, he could simply crash the laptop and stop the trigger program. There was no need to be elegant here.

All he needed to do was think of the device as a mere laptop... and not a freaking detonator.

Computers were his forte and perhaps that was the only thing keeping a lid of sorts on his feelings of terror. That was his only saving grace in all this.

Chuck rolled up his sleeves, cracking his neck to loosen the stiff muscles. Both Sarah and Casey stared at him in absolute shock and awe as he leaned forward. "I might have an idea about what to do with this computer..."

The clock was now down to four minutes and twenty-five seconds.

"Are we really going to listen to the ramblings of a lunatic? It seems like he has completely lost it now."

Sarah took a deep breath, glancing towards Chuck who gave her a reassuring look.

"I'd rather risk my life doing something than 100% die by doing nothing."

Casey seemed to think about it for a moment. Bartowski did manage to fend off those members of the famous Wolf Pack so perhaps he was blessed with some luck. Beside even a broken clock might turn out to be right twice a day. Whether he liked it or not, this numbnuts was their only hope. They had very little time and no viable alternative options of dealing with the bomb.

"Fine, let's get it over with."

Unbeknownst to them, Chuck's fingers had already begun to fly over the keys.

During his tenure as the infamous Piranha, he was a master of distributed denial-of-service (DDoS) attacks. He knew how to flood the system with superfluous requests in an attempt to overload it and prevent most if not all legitimate requests from being fulfilled. He wrote many programs back in those days which could harm a system by making it run out of memory. So crashing the MacOS shouldn't be that difficult. The only question was whether he could accomplish such a feat under so much stress and duress, especially when Sarah and Casey kept giving him such scrutinizing looks.

Despite that, being the true professional he was, he didn't have much difficulty going through the first set of commands.

[3:59]

The second line of coding turned out to be a bit trickier as Andric had programmed some decent (even by Chuck's standards) defensive measures against people like him messing with his computer. Such trivial matters wouldn't bother him otherwise, but he was running out of time.

He couldn't help but feel a strong desire to wet his pants, but somehow it didn't turn out to be as overwhelming as he initially expected.

Thinking about the safety of everyone present – especially Sarah – made him type faster than he ever had.

[2:43]

The laptop began to whir as Chuck reached the final stage of his attack. He cursed under his breath every time he made a typo error while writing the bash code. If he hadn't dedicated hours upon hours to just studying the Intersect-related subjects, he might have been able to do it a whole minute quicker.

[1:55]

"What the hell are you doing?" Casey grunted.

"Come on Chuck, you can do it," he muttered to himself, completely ignoring the whining from Sarah's NSA counterpart.

He had already begun saturating the system's process table and the fork functions he was utilizing had started slowing down the CPU by consuming its resources. An infinite loop of programs had begun repeatedly launching the copies of themselves, accelerating the process of resource starvation. He hoped to destroy the system beyond repair by executing multiple loops at the same time. While he knew for sure this procedure was more than enough to make the whole system crash and burn, it would be for naught if the countdown reached zero before that happened.

He felt another distinct urge to wet himself. If his attack didn't work, he alongside a whole lot of people would end up dying. That didn't seem like the best way to reassure himself but it would do for now.

[1:20]

_include stdio.h_

_#include sys/types.h_

_int main()_

_{_

_while(1)_

_prnha101();_

_return 0;_

_}_

His finger hovered over the ENTER key. If he made the smallest error in executing the final command or if it didn't work as fast as he expected it to, the bomb would blow up. However, a small part reminded him that this was no time to be a coward. Especially when so many lives were depending on him in the first place. He had to live up to his father's name. He couldn't give up at the last moment just like that.

He had to do this.

"Mr Bomb, meet Mr Piranha." Chuck hit the key after squeezing his eyes shut, as he silently began praying.

[0:59]

As the timer shifted from green to red, the HTML coding lit the computer screen like a Christmas tree. All of a sudden a figure formed within the code. A small fish with sharp menacing teeth and white glowing eyes emerged on screen, consuming the countdown window; before Sarah and Casey could even realize what truly happened, the entire system short circuited, dying abruptly on the spot.

Trembling from head to toe, Chuck ruffled his head. He just wanted to go home right now. It was only through sheer willpower that he managed to stand on his feet once again.

"What a day!" He breathed in a sigh of relief.

""What a day?" That's the best you could come up with, Twidget?" Casey shook his head in annoyance. Though it was pretty obvious how stunned he was by what Chuck had just done.

"You're welcome, Major Blue Falcon!" Chuck muttered. Saving Sarah and stopping this bomb from exploding made his whole system surge with pride. He felt right in being able to help people out like that. It felt amazing how even someone like him could be... a hero to someone.

In many ways, from this day onward, everything about his life was about to change forever. He didn't know whether it was for better or worse yet.

Sarah couldn't help but feel astonished at Chuck's unique feat of intelligence and resourcefulness. And she wasn't even taking the incident with Mauser into consideration yet. She was completely mesmerized by his capabilities. Never expecting him to turn out to be... such an incredible guy. Her instincts told her there was more to him than what she saw in those files. She couldn't put a finger on it yet, but she knew there was more to these mysterious changes Chuck went through, a story Chuck never revealed to anyone. A part of her was eagerly looking forward to the day when he would finally let her in and see what that was all about.

No dreams. No tricks. She finally had to admit it to herself. She was seeing stars right now. Chuck had won her all over again, just like he did five years ago back at Harvard.

"Damn! That was far too close for my liking." Chuck let out a hearty laugh, then turned to see Sarah looking at him with curiosity and awe. His sudden swivel caused the blonde to step back a bit, given how close they were. "Not bad for a not-so-special agent, huh?"

"Not bad. Not bad at all." Sarah replied with a warm smile, almost appearing to be in some sort of trance as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You were really amazing today, Chuck!"

Chuck grinned bashfully in response and rubbed the back of his head. "Thanks. Dunno much about bombs but when it comes to computers and tech stuff, I am the real deal."

The sound of clapping from the sidelines caught the trio's attention. When Chuck looked across the room to see what it was, he saw General Stanfield applauding them with a big smile. Everyone standing nearby slowly caught onto the rhythm and, one after another, joined in the revelry. Applause and cheers came down from all around, especially baffling as he looked around the small crowd beginning to gather around them. Casey didn't seem affected by it at first glance, though it was hard to get a read on Beckman's ace operative. Chuck couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable at the amount of attention he received, whereas Sarah quietly smiled in his direction, gently squeezing his arm, trying to congratulate him in her own way.

Perhaps this day wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

**Note: I tried the whole FB group thing but it's just kind of lot less welcoming than something like Shield hero discord for example. May be people are just lot more reserved without the anonymity or I am just into different stuff compared to other Chucksters. So I have decided to not post any chapter links or previews in future there. Since most people only reach out to me only here , I dunno if it's a great idea to do the FB thing as well.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Interlude: Bent But Not Broken**

**_I'm a rock._**

**_Go ahead and sear me._**

**_I won't budge an inch because I'm a rock._**

**_Go ahead and beat me up._**

**_I'm a solid rock._**

**_Go ahead and leave me in the darkness._**

**_I'm a rock that will shine all alone._**

**_I don't break, I don't burn, nor do I decay, as I go against nature's way._**

**_I survive. I'm a diamond._**

_**— **__**Gwang Jin, Creator of the masterpiece called Itaewon Class**_

**...xxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxx...**

**Fort Belvoir, NGA Campus East.**

_This is not good. This isn't how things were supposed to go._

Admiral Kernan had been prepared for sabotage by the likes of Beckman and Graham. He knew them well enough to expect they would try something. But at the same time he doubted they were daring enough to attempt any serious monkey business, at least while Chuck was under his supervision.

What he didn't anticipate was the involvement of an extremely successful and highly efficient elite black ops unit, whose members had now turned against the very same country they once took an oath to serve and protect till their last breath. In addition to all that, a Serbian madman thought it would be fun to bomb the very same NATO celebratory event his cousin Adam was supposed to headline. His being one of the best speakers and debaters in the US intelligence and NATO communities was a reason he was considered a rising star by colleagues on both sides of the political spectrum. In fact, Adam insisted he attend the ceremony as well but learning that Graham wanted the young Bartowski to host the government's Intersect really soured his mood and he ultimately decided not to go there, much to Stanfield's annoyance.

Admittedly, Michael had always, from his days as a small and stupid boy, to the amazingly handsome and unforgettable Admiral he was now (at least for someone around his age!), had that annoying type of super-macho persona; the kind where guys liked to pretend they were tough enough not to need any help. Come to think of it, all the cool people acted that way. That stupid nerd (who was actually pretty damn funny as long as _you _weren't the butt of his jokes) who used to follow Mary around all the time and pretend he wasn't hungry when she offered him food once they finished their workout session was kinda like that as well.

Not that it helped him any (as far as he knew), especially in a situation like that.

Effing Bartowski! The brat never knew when to stop, did he?

_Chuck. _Michael felt his stomach drop. _This is all my fault. _The fact that things worked out as well as they did – which wasn't very well at all, but it could have been much, _much _worse – seemed unreal to him.

_Stupid ungrateful little bastard! Always trying to make the world a damn better place. Except Mary was merely a few years younger than me and she had children much earlier than I did – under a secret identity, for crying out loud – and that idiot husband of hers helped cover her tracks. Seriously, weren't you supposed to be an honest man, Orion? How could you let Mary hide so many... things from her own brother?_

_Damn... I guess Chuck isn't little anymore. But still. Ungrateful little nerd._

_Poor Stephen, Hartley and..._

Michael shook his head several times. He might be aging but there was absolutely no way he was old! He would argue that point to death if he had to! In the end, despite his misgivings about his wayward sister, Chuck and Ellie were his own flesh and blood. Part of his family. Just like his own children. And damn his entire being to hell if he was going to let Stephen's brat suffer due to _that __thing_ inside his head.

"How is he?" Michael asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Alive and kicking. Just a little bit battered and bruised," said a man clad in a grey suit. He was known simply by his code name – Black Terrius – and was the special agent in charge of Michael's personal security (as well as Chuck's for the most part, given how his original bodyguard asked for reassignment out of nowhere). "Mister Bartowski recorded parts of his conversation with Major Casey and Agent Walker and sent it to us. It seems he somehow accidentally downloaded most, if not all the intel while decrypting the data on that PDA. That's how he figured out the nefarious bombing plot."

_What sort of trouble did you get yourself into this time, Charles? Exposed the fact that you have a supercomputer inside your brain to stop a terrorist's plot, did you? You bleeding idiot. You do realize it's going to be much harder for me to keep things under wraps now? If you came to me beforehand we could have dealt with this with much more subtlety and finesse. Now I'll have to spend time protecting you from the Wicked Witch and Prince of Darkness before we even get to think about dealing with that thing inside your brain._

The Admiral steeled his face into a grim frown. "Is he suffering any major side effects?"

"Right now? Even Mister Bartowski isn't completely sure himself... But he noticed something extremely odd about the programming."

"What did he mean by that?"

Black Terrius trailed off uncertainly, not answering right away.

"Well...?" The Admiral cocked an eyebrow at him, starting to feel a little impatient.

"Sir... It's just a theory..."

"Spit it out."

"Well, according to Mr Bartowski... how should I put it... He never really described it properly in his conversation with my NSA and CIA counterparts. But there are traces of... Orion's original programming. His... _presence _is there. The same genetic encoding algorithm which led to the creation of the Intersect in the past... it was there. Like a piece of the puzzle waiting to be solved. It's almost as if... it's almost as if whoever wrote this code was well acquainted with the inner workings of the Intersect..."

Michael paled. His greatest fears were now confirmed.

_Oh God no... Oh please... God no... These people weren't only trying to steal government intel but they are building their very own Intersect as well! To be able to replicate one of the most ambitious, complex and highly cost-intensive projects ever undertaken by the US military... Just how resourceful and influential is this rogue spy outlet?_

He straightened his back, looking up gravely. He knew, thanks to a little detective work done by an operative he trusted, that Larkin went to great lengths to remove Chuck from the CIA's recruitment drive. He also knew about Chuck's miraculous memory retention rate. Larkin being part of this rogue spy outlet didn't really sit well with him.

"I want every single piece of information out there regarding Bryce Larkin and his involvement within the Intersect project, including all of his redacted files," he barked. "Get a direct order from Dennice if you have to. Tell the dunderhead it's an emergency."

Black Terrius swallowed uncomfortably. He knew the Admiral and Dennice (the Director of National Intelligence) were old friends and even served in the same unit for a long time, but hearing him swear like this was kind of weird... and hilarious at the same time.

He didn't know whether to freak out or laugh out loud.

"Sir, are you sure it's a great idea to not tell Mister Bartowski about the you know what? What if he figures it out on his own?"

Michael nodded with a dejected sigh and let out a puff of smoke. "Sometimes I wonder why I don't just tell him myself. I kept the dark secret about his mother's identity because I wanted to spare him the pain and anguish I once went through. That didn't turn out as anticipated. All of us can attest to that. I guess I just want him to enjoy normalcy and peace in his life, as much as he possibly can."

Black Terrius frowned. He couldn't even imagine the possibility of having that thing inside his head and bearing the responsibility that came with it, as Chuck had done – unwittingly and unwillingly – for the last couple of years. That sort of stress would have turned the hairs of lesser men gray.

He blinked upon realizing what the Admiral had just said. "Wait, you mean you're going to tell him everything at some point?"

Michael simply responded with a sad smile. He glanced at the plain golden necklace with a small Starfleet insignia in the middle, always lying on the left corner of his table, hidden from most people's view. It was a birthday gift from his sister, given to him many years ago. It signified his trust in his own family, and was also a constant reminder of **_her _**betrayal.

**Flashback**

_Growing up, he was the unwanted lazy bum of the family while his sister was the apple of their parents' eyes. They loved her unconditionally, went to all sorts of activities she took part in and always gave her the benefit of the doubt. A part of him wanted to believe they loved both of them equally, but he knew that logic was lopsided._

_He was always stuck with annoying chores and was constantly berated by their parents for not being bright and intelligent like his sister, or not going outside like his sister. After a while, it reached the point where he started feeling like a failure, both as an older brother and as a person._

_One day, his sister decided to approach him out of nowhere. Knocking on his door, she said, "Mike, can I come in?"_

_"Yeah, give me a second Mary!" Michael responded with a sigh. Moments later the door to his bedroom opened, which was fairly clean as he didn't like to give his parents any more reason to nag at him than they already did. The only exception was a little desk which had all sorts of books and comics spread over it._

_"What's up? Don't you have cheerleading practice today?" He asked out of curiosity, not expecting his little sister of all people to show up today. Being the ridiculously average, underachieving, lonely shut-in that he was, he was pretty much used to being left to his own devices nowadays._

_The ever charismatic and confident Mary looked away, slightly embarrassed, before presenting a gift bag to her older brother. "I skipped out today, because... because it's your birthday Mike. You never come celebrate with anyone, not even me, Mom and Dad. I get that you really enjoy reading novels, comic books and music and all that, but you really should let some people into your life. I feel like my brother is a ghost sometimes, so I wanted to get you something this year. Maybe soon we can find things we both enjoy so we can start to feel like part of the same family."_

_Taking the gift bag from his sister, Michael looked at her. Mary's eyes sparkled with pride of sorts, but the embarrassment was also there, easily noticeable by the fact that she never looked at him in the eyes. Taking that as a hint to open the bag, he reached in and pulled out a chain._

_Lifting the chain, a rather plain necklace was revealed. It consisted of a fancy golden chain with a small charm on the end. The charm showed a distinctive arrowhead, the very same symbol from his favorite TV show of all time, _Star Trek_._

_"I know you really like those science fiction television shows with aliens and stuff like that, so I wanted to get you something that would remind you that even if the world inside those fictional TV shows is where you really like to be, you'll always have a piece of that world here in the real one, with us." Mary blinked away a tear from her eye._

_Michael looked at the necklace in astonishment, then to his little sister, then back to the necklace. "Mary, this is awesome and all, but you really didn't have to buy me this with your allowance. How long did you save up to buy this for a brother who had nothing to do with you?"_

_"Only a few months!" Mary replied quickly. "Only like... 5 months or so," she finished, looking away in embarrassment once again. Michael was dumbfounded. His little sister really cared for him that much? Even though he'd done nothing but fail as an older sibling? No guidance when she needed it the most, no help on homework, nothing._

_And yet Mary was willing to sacrifice this much for him?_

She really is the better sibling after all._ Michael sighed, then brought Mary into a full hug. "You really didn't have to do it. I know you wanted to buy that fancy red dress for your prom, and you spent all your money on me. Either way, thanks Mary. It really does mean a lot to me."_

_Mary sniffled and buried her head into her older brother's shoulder, smiling and trying desperately not to cry. "I'm glad you like it Mike. I wanted your 20th birthday to be super special, even if you didn't want to spend it with anyone. Soon, you will be going into your first year of college and you're about to leave behind everyone you knew from high school, so if you remember anyone, I want it to be me: your one and only little sister."_

_"Ha! I will never forget my one and only little sister." Michael let out a smile, something that was a rare sight nowadays. Rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment, he let go of Mary and turned around. "Now tell me how to get this damn thing on. My hands are too big, so I really suck at connecting things like these," he joked, causing Mary to burst out in a fit of giggles._

_Michael had struggled to gather the funds necessary to go to college, so he was undoubtedly a few years behind. Working two part-time jobs and saving whatever he could was the only way he could afford it; even then he was going to require the laughably high-interest student loans. Buying that red dress for his sister's prom wasn't going to be easy. Perhaps he should try for Annapolis like his classmate Andrew. He heard the Navy paid for everything, including tuition, room and board, medical and dental care costs. They even covered the cost of laundry, but that seemed too good to be true. If he managed to pass all those tests and get in, he might be able to prove to everyone, especially his parents, that he wasn't a complete failure, and that even he was worth something._

_A man, who wanted to serve his country with pride and honor. A soldier. A hero. A leader. Just like his idol Captain James T Kirk._

_And he would be able to use his funds to buy that beautiful fancy red dress for his sister as well._

_Perhaps it was time to let the world see how cool and awesome Mary's big brother truly was._

**Flashback End**

"I will always carry the burden of Frost's failures and her past sins. Even if she only exists as an obstacle I have to overcome, no matter how much I despise and hate her, she and I have to live together... That's what big brothers are for, after all. I am risking Chuck and Ellie's ire by not telling them for as long as I have, but one day they will need to know. The burden placed on them isn't just going to disappear, Agent. No matter what I do, no matter what he does, it will always be the elephant in the room. To anyone involved in our world that doesn't know Charles personally, they will always see the shadow of his father's innovation over him, if they even see him at all. I could reiterate to the likes of Diane and Langston over and over again that he is a hero, not some pawn to be sacrificed in the name of the greater good. But that won't do him any good. In the end, they must form their own conclusions on the matter."

"Sir, what if they reach the wrong conclusion?"

"They can choose to make him a company scientist. They can choose to make him a field analyst. They can choose to make him the chief architect of the new Intersect. I really don't care about trivial stuff like that. However, if they think they own him and can dictate how he should live his life, or deprive him of the ability to choose what he wants to do in his personal life just because of their petty desire to control what is inside his head, then they will have something far more worrisome than their tarnished reputations and a rogue spy outlet messing with their most important operations." His eyes hardened into gleaming chips of ice, his lips curled into a menacing grin.

"_**Me**_."  
**...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxxxxx...**


	23. Chapter 23

**Beta'ed by my good friend LancerGaShinda.**

**Thank you very much for your hard work and support :)**

**The Difference**

He managed to do everything and didn't even know how he did it. He felt as if he was too reckless sometimes, but he just couldn't help it. He always had too many issues to deal with at the same time.

Now that the moment of crisis had passed, Chuck had to admit it to himself – the program he created back in his Piranha days was more or less executed to perfection. Judging by the looks of awe and wonder on both Casey and Sarah's faces, it seemed he had also managed to impress seasoned spies like them. On top of that, he was even starting to enjoy all the attention, which was a bit unusual for someone of his humble disposition.

Sarah shook her head fondly at him. "You are crazy, you know that? You are very good at improvising, Chuck. I will give you that. First that chlorine gas and now this? Still, how did you manage to disable the bomb?"

"I kind of overloaded the system, you know. It was a program I created back at Stanford; basically it kept writing over and over the memory modules, creating a huge amount of data on the fly which caused the system to crash due to resource starvation. Err... Sorry. I tend to ramble when I'm nervous and you probably don't care about all the technical details. So I guess... that's how I did... it."

Chuck rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish smile. Even while passing both his special agent and analyst training with flying colors, his affinity for being clumsy hadn't gone away entirely. In action or when he was supposed to utilize the O-Intersect, it hadn't been an issue for the most part, given how much he dedicated himself to becoming physically, intellectually and mentally stronger. A lot of training had centered around combat and getting a handle on what was inside his head. He'd learned how to utilize his flashes better and also focused on mastering his hand-to-hand skills, with and without melee weapons. In addition, he was decent when it came to modern firearms, loath as he was to actually _use_ them.

It always felt much easier to pretend he was hiding behind a suit and mask. That was why, if the situation demanded it, he could pretend to be a completely different person. Like a _Call of Duty_ character.

But right now, he couldn't help but feel a bit clumsy next to Sarah, fumbling nervously with his tie.

Sarah gave him a mischievous grin. He was such an adorable and modest gentleman, if at times awkward. Her hand immediately made its way to his and stopped it from fumbling in the process, leaving the crumpled tie in peace. Meanwhile Casey just grunted in response.

"And I bet you find yourself in such deadly situations all the time, Bartowski?"

Chuck let out a small smile. "Legacy of a misspent youth as a Nerd Herd supervisor, Major."

As they were about to head out, General Stanfield hailed them over to personally congratulate all three of them for their timely action in saving so many innocent people.

"Thank you so, so much for what you have done, Agents. I will personally pass my recommendations on to the DNI and you can expect at least the Intelligence Commendation Medal for your heroic actions. And as far as you are concerned, young man..." He then glanced towards Chuck with a knowing smile, motioning him to come closer.

Sarah and Casey couldn't hear what Stanfield had to say to Chuck in such hushed whispers but once their conversation ended, he gave a bark of laughter which rapidly evolved into a full-on belly laugh. Tears were squeezing out from the corners of his eyes as he held his sides.

"Oh... please... Ah... hahahaa... So this was the big secret. I thought it was something worse..."

"C'mon!" Chuck howled. "I just hope this can keep the old timer from going from a class 10 to a class 3, in terms of yelling..."

Stanfield laughed and patted his shoulder. "Well, I thought you had more or less gotten used to it by now, _Skyguy_. But don't worry. I will handle the rest." He left in a joyous mood, shaking his head with a booming laugh.

Casey didn't like the fact that Bartowski was getting chummy with another Intelligence Community head honcho. He was turning out to be too much of a wildcard. While he undoubtedly believed him to be a good Samaritan through and through, he was also a bit flippant and a little too sure of himself, even when leading them to a bomb set to go off at any moment. He needed to be shown who was in charge of the situation. He grabbed Bartowski's shoulders and forced him to turn around.

"What the hell was that about, Bartowski? What's he going to handle for you?"

Chuck blinked in confusion, not understanding why Casey would get so worked up over a simple conversation. "He asked me what an NGA analyst was doing here with you guys. I told him I signed up for the National Guard, right after finishing my analyst training. My military occupational specialty was actually Explosive Ordnance Disposal, and I also attended a bunch of special workshops conducted by Major Chris Hunter. Since the NSA and CIA got the information about the bomb very late and there was no time to reach out to anyone else, you enlisted me as the resident bomb disposal technician. And I was bound by my duty as a member of the National Guard to help you out. Then I requested he tell Admiral Kernan not to make a huge fuss about it and lash out at you two for dragging me into all this."

Sarah beamed at him, a bemused smile on her face, whereas Casey's eyes had gone wide upon hearing the casual mention of one of the best bomb disposal experts to ever work for the British Army. However, he chalked it off to Bartowski gaining that knowledge from the Intersect. Besides, by being as unpredictable as he was creative, he should have been more surprised if he hadn't done anything like that in the first place. He was an annoyingly flexible character, after all.

"Moron, you can't go mouthing off whatever tickles your fancy to anybody and everybody you meet, especially a high-ranking military official like that."

"Relax, Major. I only told him that some very important details were redacted from my official records due to serious security concerns, and that if he wanted to know everything about me and my real occupation within the government, he would need a signed waiver from General Beckman, Director Graham and Admiral Kernan." Chuck sported a crooked grin, as they started leaving the hotel premises, moving towards the parking lot.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, asking out of curiosity, "Why the National Guard, though?"

All of a sudden, a wistful smile appeared on Chuck's face.

"Ah, that's where Captain Awesome comes in. My sister's boyfriend, Dr Devon Woodcomb, is a proud member of the National Guard. He even had a year-and-a-half-long stint in Afghanistan. So that was the first thing which came to mind. I needed to give the General some plausible reason for my involvement in tonight's drama. A GEOINT analyst isn't someone you're supposed to bring along to deal with a bomb threat, you know," he explained in a matter-of-fact manner.

Casey's eyebrows twitched in irritation. Bartowski clearly knew well enough not to compromise knowledge of the Intersect in any way. Unfortunately, the way he casually revealed all their bosses to Stanfield made sure they wouldn't be able to just grab him and put him in a safe house; there would be too many questions if he disappeared without a trace. Even if the NSA and CIA were to work together, they wouldn't be able to cover this up without taking the NGA fully into confidence. And it was pretty obvious whose side Kernan would take when the chips were down.

He just got outmaneuvered and outplayed by that brat!

"So what happens next?" Chuck inquired. "Any plans for launching a manhunt on our Serbian friend and the rest of the Wolf Pack? And what about that Demetrios dude? You can't let him get away with what he did!"

"You are trying to do too much, Chuck. You shouldn't." Sarah said softly.

"What should I do? Do nothing?" He whispered. "That's out of the question, Sarah. These people need to be stopped!"

"Don't worry. We will stop them."

"We?" Chuck asked, blinking in confusion.

"Yes. We. Just know I am here for you. Okay?" She smiled, patting his shoulders comfortingly, then she threw her arms around Chuck and hugged him. In response he rolled his eyes and smiled at the same time, then hugged her back. The warmth from her was both comforting and reassuring.

_Perhaps having Sarah around won't be so bad. But is it okay for me to like her as more than a friend? I don't want the girl... the woman I like to know about all the mess I am going through. I want to be honest with her. In all honesty, I must. But can I really trust her to know everything...?_

That was when his eyes bulged. He got the feeling she was enjoying the hug a bit too much for his taste, if the way she moaned was any indication. Her body rubbed against his so tightly that it seemed as though something embarrassing was about to happen.

Panicking, Chuck wanted it to stop before it did. "OK! OK! Sarah, I get it." He pushed her away as gently as he possibly could. But he had to admit that he enjoyed it.

"Just trying to lighten your mood." She winked with a playful smile.

Chuck couldn't help but blush. He also felt his adrenaline rising and his heart beat quicken.

Casey frowned, staring down both of them with a miffed expression. They were getting along a little too well. There was a reason Graham sent his best on this assignment. Walker knew how to twist even some of the most headstrong and unruly individuals and make them putty in her hands. Even a wildcard like Bartowski didn't stand a chance against her. Furthermore, they already had a past connection which she was clearly trying to exploit in order to lure him to the CIA. And he absolutely couldn't allow that!

"You have nerves of steel, Bartowski. Even I can't help but admire that quality about you. That said, you are clearly way out of your depth here. A big brain like yours belongs behind a desk in some nice office, somewhere safe and secure. You are enjoying the attention from people you clearly shouldn't get close to." He reprimanded Chuck as he threw a nasty glare towards Graham's personal attack dog, "Out here, people like you can easily be killed by the likes of Walker and I without a trace. So please, know your place out here in the real world. Stay out of situations like this in the future for your own safety. Or do you want me to make you?" He threatened as he took a step forward and Chuck took a step back out of sheer reflex. "I know ways to convince you."

"I can't let this go. Not after what I have seen and experienced throughout my entire life," Chuck said softly, not wanting to further anger him. "This is me. I will continue living like this. What else can I do?"

Sarah came up towards Casey. "Hey! Leave him alone. You don't know what kind of person he is or why he did what he did." She looked as if she wanted to tear his head off right there and then.

Instead of getting angry, he just emitted a short bark of laughter. Chuck couldn't help but feel bewildered at the sight.

"Those were some big words, kid. Make sure you keep that level of courage up, Chuck. Who knows? We might need you around to stop bigger things than this in future." Casey slapped Bartowski good-naturedly on the chest with the back of his hand, then turned to Sarah with a vague smile.

"Let's call our bosses and get all the details about our next step, sister!"

Sarah nodded in response, albeit a bit reluctantly. Now that Casey was on first-name basis with Chuck, she didn't have to worry too much about treading on dangerous ground. Not that she cared about the protocols as far as this particular assignment was concerned in the first place, anyways. "If it wasn't for Chuck's persistence, your actions in that parking lot would have led to at least one of our deaths. Can I really count on your cooperation in this assignment?"

"Well, you aren't exactly in a position to ask that question." Casey stepped forward, glaring down at Sarah, who stared back at him in defiance. "If Mr Bartowski wasn't the scary-mad brainiac that he is, Mauser's finding of you would have resulted in his death. That sort of incompetence is clearly more than enough to have you, if not your whole damn agency removed from this operation."

Sarah shrank a bit upon hearing how Chuck nearly died protecting her today. There was also a momentary flash of guilt and pain in her eyes, but it was quickly hidden behind her professional mask.

"I don't think I deserve to be punished or reprimanded for circumstances I had no control over, Major."

"Never mind. I still have unfinished business with the Wolf Pack. Besides, you took that scumbag out so I'm willing to let your incompetence slide and work with you for the time being. But I won't tolerate any attempts to double-cross me. And in case you have any plans of hurting Chuck in any way..." He trailed off menacingly.

Sarah huffed, responding to Casey's threat with her own. "And should you ever pull a gun on me or Chuck, you won't like the consequences. I can guarantee you that."

Chuck shook his head with a sigh, finding his position in both ultimatums baffling. He held both his hands up in placation. "Now now... We're all working for the greater good of American citizens, aren't we? I mean, comradeship and cooperation are the most important aspects of being a federal agent. We are beyond threats, aren't we? I realize we might not see eye to eye on all issues, and being friends with each other might be asking a bit too much from my side... So why don't we call a truce for now?"

Both seasoned spies considered the matter for a couple of moments, then sighed in frustration. Chuck's argument made sense, and not for the first time. Their analysts already made a huge error of judgment in not paying heed to his ambush warnings because they viewed him as an insignificant rookie; two colleagues sadly died as a result. Both of them served their country with pride and dignity, especially Nelson, the man who dragged Casey out of hostile territory when one of their recon missions went awry. Having suffered a broken spine, he only recovered after an extremely lengthy stay at Walter Reed Army Medical Center.

If only they listened to what the moron had to say...

Casey put down his SIG Sauer. The last thing he wanted was for Chuck to drop his neutrality and join with the infamous Ice Queen, just because he couldn't keep his temper and pride in check. If he could earn Bartowski's trust by at least pretending to be cordial with Graham's enforcer, then so be it. He had to think about the bigger picture right now. He couldn't let him fall into the clutches of the CIA.

_I must convince him to join the NSA at all costs. We need people like him to make sure good men like Nelson and Williams don't continue to die in vain._

"Sorry for jumping to the wrong conclusion earlier, Agent Walker." He extended his hand with a forced smile.

Chuck smiled at Casey in gratitude, not really expecting his speech to work in a situation like this. He had no idea he could be that good.

_Hmm, perhaps a nickname like Lieutenant Awesome... nah. 'Awesome' will always be Devon's epithet. I need a different moniker._

Chuck then smiled encouragingly towards Sarah; she turned towards him, still maintaining her usual aloof Agent Walker facade. But deep down, she was even more concerned seeing Casey making an attempt to play nice with them. That felt completely out of character and made it harder for her to predict his actions in the future.

"Do you have anything you'd like to add, Sarah?"

_Nice act, Major! But I won't let you fool him that easily. You'll have to get through me first._

"Fine. A truce, then." Sarah said quietly, giving him a calculating gaze. She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, grabbed hold of Casey's extended hand and gave it a tentative shake. Her tight-lipped smile didn't reach her icy-cold blue eyes. Chuck could feel a dark sinister aura from the duo as they discussed their current mission. It seemed like they didn't even trust each other over mundane details – like who would drive him to the designated safe house. He sweated and laughed nervously, wondering if he'd survive the day with those two being responsible for his safety.

Still, considering the amount of emotional and psychological turmoil he'd been subjected to in his short life... If this was the worst he'd face after receiving the G-Intersect then perhaps everything wasn't as bad as he initially feared. Maybe there was some light at the end of the tunnel after all.

Or maybe it was the sign of an incoming train.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

The news had spread across the country like wildfire.

The media was all over the incident, though the authorities didn't proclaim what really happened. Rumors about a bunch of dirty cops associated with terrorist activities, drug dealing and all sorts of criminal activities getting killed by a mysterious assailant had started circulating on the television.

A witness was giving a statement. While holding a microphone, she looked to the camera and pointed an accusatory finger, as if she was addressing the viewers. "I was too tired after a shopping trip and left my grocery bag inside the car. But when I returned, all of my supplies were nowhere to be found. Even the new and imported frying pan I bought got stolen by some lowlife. I demand justice. The thief who stole my groceries must be punished!"

CNN showed the highlights of the NATO event from the Washington Hilton. The footage showed a bunch of squad cars and fire lorries. Even paramedics were already on the scene tending to some of the bystanders.

A bar below the screen read _FBI AND NATIONAL GUARD SAVES THE DAY?_

A reporter was heard throughout the footage. "The questions still stand – who was the EOD expert and how did they manage to diffuse a bomb like that in less than five minutes?"

Theodore Roark was incensed beyond measure. Even knowing they were dealing with someone who gave Gaez so much trouble, he believed – incorrectly, it seemed – that Mauser would ultimately be successful. As the leader of FULCRUM, it was his job to keep tabs on all people of interest affiliated with the US government, and to eliminate individuals with problematic political and moral alignments if they were potential roadblocks. Such as, for example, a certain former allied commander of NATO who was poised to assume a very important position in the Department of Defense.

Roark didn't like small issues. He believed in nipping them in the bud before they bloomed.

According to his own analysis – ever since their major success with the next-gen tank plans, it had gotten a bit harder for FULCRUM operatives to move around as freely as they liked. Still, he had been somewhat happy with their short-lived moment of triumph.

However, learning that Mauser's team had been either eliminated, or apprehended and incarcerated in supermax prison really darkened his mood.

Certain members of the Wolf Pack – namely Mauser and Delgado – were the pioneers of his organization. They were a crucial part of all major FULCRUM operations, and each of them benefited from working together. To accomplish his goals, Roark needed people who were as driven and dedicated towards their cause as he was. Being a man of integrity and honor, he only liked to reward the most qualified and special members of his organization. The Wolf Pack had been a group unlike any other. They were even, dare he say it, as promising as the organization he himself ran.

Holding a newspaper in his hands, he crumpled it, then threw it away in disgust.

"Amelia Anderson..." Roark said the name with a bad taste in his mouth. "Who the hell does she think she is? She dares to challenge the might of FULCRUM, huh? Next time we get our hands on her, she will definitely meet a sticky end!" he sneered, raising his fist in mock triumph.

For the moment, he needed to focus on other pressing matters. Such as a certain Serbian bomber in whom FULCRUM had invested considerable time, money and resources – only for him to fail miserably at his designated task. It bothered him immensely, and was the reason he sat in his office collecting his thoughts and emotions. He tried to decide what approach he was going to use when Vincent came in.

_He is going to have to come up with some answers and those answers better impress me!_

He was certainly going to take his anger out on the man who enlisted such a useless, pathetic individual for this important task. The so-called unmatchable explosives expert couldn't even build a proper bomb for them.

His secretary buzzed on the speakerphone.

"Yes." Roark muttered.

"Mr Vincent Smith is here to see you."

"Send him in." He said quite apathetically. Roark sat in his seat and clasped his hands together.

Vincent Smith, a former Army Ranger with the rank of Second Lieutenant, was believed by the US government to have been killed in action in Khowst, Afghanistan. In reality, he led the FULCRUM team in search of Orion and was a senior figure in most other major operations. Upon walking in, he stood rather awkwardly in front of Roark's desk, looking quite nervous.

"I was under the impression Andric was a genius. Most EOD experts wouldn't even come close to understanding the design of his bomb, let alone defuse it. Care to explain how some nosy brat from the National Guard managed to accomplish the supposedly impossible?" Roark growled.

"Whoever it was must be an individual with a highly unorthodox mindset. Either that, or maybe it was just a fluke on their side..."

"Don't you dare make an ass out of me, Vincent!" Roark warned. "I want to hear things that are considered official and discernible! What do you know for sure?"

"Sir, we have our experts going through the code which was used to disable the trigger program," Vincent insisted. "But aside from that, we have no idea how he could have done that. Our best engineers spent hours working on this thing and someone managed to destroy it in little under five minutes. That feels quite disturbing."

"Here is the thing, Mr Smith. I am not a corporate titan at this moment. Right now, I am a mad titan!" He yelled and rose from his seat. "Stop dancing around the facts and tell me what really happened down there!"

"Our analysts suggest the hacking pattern and efficiency of this code matches that of a legendary individual from the past. One of the greatest black-hat hackers to ever exist. Someone who used to make a joke out of the FBI and Pentagon on a daily basis, yet they never came close to catching him. Not even once. However he suddenly disappeared one day, vanishing without a trace."

Roark slumped back in his chair. "Of course it was..." he muttered. After a while, he spoke again. "What exactly is this individual called?"

Vincent spoke quietly, clearing his throat. "He used to go by the moniker "Piranha"".

Roark narrowed his eyes. "How can you be so sure this Piranha is a man in the first place, Mr Smith?"

"We have surveillance footage of the entire thing happening, Sir." Vincent spoke, immediately handing an iPad to Roark. Taking it in his hands, Roark saw the camera footage that showed where the NATO celebratory event took place. He went over it and with his fingertips made the image bigger and zoomed in. The moment he did so, a particular young man with messy brown hair caught his eye.

"Hold on!" He cried.

On the screen, the familiar-looking brown-haired young man stepped near the armed bomb, whispering something to a middle-aged muscular man, most likely of a military background given how he moved and looked, commonly referred by his code name John Casey by his fellow NSA peers. He was also accompanied by the very same woman who all but single-handedly dismantled one of FULCRUM's most deadly units,and ruthlessly eliminated Mauser, their organization's most experienced and well-connected operative. However, he really wasn't paying her much heed.

_No... No... It cannot be._

What truly made him incensed was seeing the young man working on the computer with a determined look on his face. Oh, he knew that look quite well. The man who had been a constant nuisance in his side for the longest time had that same annoying know-it-all look about him as well.

Roark let out a guttural roar slamming his fist on to the table.

"Motherfucker! Another goddamn Bartowski, of all people!" Roark seethed in fury.

"Sir! What is it? Who are you talking about?" Vincent asked in confusion as he stood by his side.

Before he could respond, something clicked. This guy was also the same man whose profile caught his attention in the algorithm search for the NGA engineer behind the Intersect decryption technology. What were the odds?

He recalled a conversation he had with Zarnow the other day, then reviewed the footage again.

"_All we have is the security camera footage of John Casey escorting him from the conference room."_

He wasn't absolutely sure yet, but he had a gut feeling. Charles Irving Bartowski was, quite possibly, the NGA engineer – and _human Intersect_ – he was looking for.

...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

**Special thanks to my good friend Williegarvin, one of the nicest people I know in this fandom. Hope you update New Day more frequently in the future.**

**Stay healthy, stay safe, stay happy.**

**Take care XD**

**See ya all soon :)**


	24. Chapter 24

**Neither Victory Nor Defeat**

Since both agents (and their respective bosses) considered their offices as no man's land, Chuck suggested setting up a secure video conference on his home ground, Fort Belvoir. Calls were made from both sides. As always, Michael was prompt to act on this request, making sure all the necessary protocols were established in his office with military precision.

On the way back to Fort Belvoir, Chuck tried to coax both parties into having a polite conversation with each other, but neither bit. To make matters worse, he could feel the tension mounting at an accelerated pace, adding to the stress already placed on his shoulders. His blonde spy friend had already laid claim to one of his hands and was gaining access to his torso. Her grip tightened whenever Casey offhandedly remarked how good she was when it came to assignments like this. To anyone else watching – men in particular – it was a sight to be envious of. However, only Chuck could sense the tense aura Sarah was radiating right now.

It certainly wasn't a good time to be anywhere near her!

Still, that didn't stop Casey from going on and on about how someone like him would be better off with the NSA instead of the Completely Incompetent Asses. Not only that, he would be rewarded with extremely generous compensation in exchange for helping their agency receive preferential treatment where Project Intersect was concerned.

In response, Sarah asked Casey if they made any progress in finding the missing scientist. With a smile on her face, she then (sarcastically) thanked him for dropping Chuck off near the bus stop, otherwise she might have had a harder time finding him. It was an obvious dig at his agency's competence and trustworthiness when it came to fulfilling their obligations towards their promising recruits.

Chuck feared what hanging around too much with such hotheads would do for his safety and mental health. Thankfully, before both agents could start beating the crap out of each other, they were called inside the office.

He was surprised to not see Annie, a pretty brunette in her early twenties who used to work at the reception and always greeted him with a welcoming smile. Not that he judged people based on their hair color. And he certainly didn't have a type. He would argue that point to death if he had to.

In the hallway leading to Kernan's office stood a tall, lean and observant-looking man clad in full battle attire with green beret, armed with a suppressed KGP-9 sub-machine gun. The words _US Army_ and _McQuaid_ were embossed over the two top pockets on his jacket. Despite having a very stern-looking countenance, the man greeted him with a knowing smile and a firm yet enthusiastic handshake. Chuck presumed he was the special agent who replaced Lou as the Admiral's head of security and personal aide a few months back.

Once they entered Kernan's chamber, they found him clad in his usual naval attire, decorated with the stars, shoulder boards, and sleeve stripes of a US Navy Admiral, sitting at his desk with a lit pipe in his hand. He was facing a huge home theater screen, waiting for his fellow agency heads to start proceedings.

Michael sized both agents up with a cautious look. "Agent Walker, Major Casey. It's not everyday I get to meet the top intelligence officers of their respective agencies at the same time," he greeted them in a jovial tone. "Welcome to our humble abode."

"Admiral." Sarah replied in a courteous manner. "Many thanks for your cooperation and understanding. Director Graham always speaks so highly of you and now I can see why."

"It's alright, Agent Walker. I just like to follow protocol and procedure to the T, unlike some unruly individuals around here." Michael smirked a little, showing his 'happy face' to Casey.

Casey shook his head with a sigh. It seemed that Admiral Kernan was still a bit pissed about the recent incident.

"I apologize if it felt like I was intruding into your turf, Sir," he said through gritted teeth. It was Beckman's fault for arranging that presentation in the first place. She just didn't have the patience to wait for Kernan's approval and wanted to see the NGA's prized engineer in action. "Orders are orders. I can't disobey them."

"That doesn't mean you have to comply with anything unethical. You are a serviceman, not a drone." Michael frowned in disapproval.

Sarah was dumbfounded upon hearing that. Did Admiral Michael Kernan – one of the few individuals regarded by her boss as his equal in every regard – really just say it was okay to question an order? Spies did what they were told. They didn't question their orders, whether or not they agreed with them.

Admittedly, she herself had questioned her orders – but only once. It was a special case, an exception. Other than that, she always did as instructed, just as she was taught back at the Farm. While the notion of disobeying orders was still hard to completely wrap her mind around, she felt somewhat relieved that such an individual was in charge of the agency representing Chuck's interests.

"You shouldn't smoke that stuff, Chief. You may be old, but that doesn't mean you should let the smoke kill you faster." Chuck joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

The Admiral laughed a bit and put the pipe away for everyone's benefit, though it didn't seem like Casey would have minded much, being a fellow chain smoker as well. "Welcome back, Charles." He then got a good look at his face and asked in a stern tone, "What the hell happened to your face?"

Chuck grinned awkwardly. He didn't feel proud of losing the fight against Mauser the way he did. He basically had it in the bag but that wasn't something he could admit in public.

Thankfully, Sarah decided to handle the explanation. However, the Admiral could sense she was being a little evasive. She was also looking down in shame somewhat, which he felt was odd given what he heard about her reputation from his trusted sources.

_Strange. I thought Graham's enforcer didn't like being emotionally attached to her subjects. It seems as if... she almost feels responsible for him._

"I was held at gunpoint and taken hostage by rogue operatives with links to my former partner. As per policy, I secured Mr Bartowski's exit beforehand but... he didn't follow my instructions and engaged with those individuals in order to free me. He managed to deal with three of them but their leader, Frank Mauser proved to be a bit too much. Thankfully, I had recovered enough to intervene by then."

The Admiral's mood improved and he let out an aged chuckle. "I must thank you for protecting our agency's resident knucklehead. His IQ might be off the charts, but at the end of the day he is a moron without any sense of proportion. And let's not get me started on his proclivity for risking his life to save people. If anything, I should recommend you for this year's National Intelligence Cross."

Chuck was not looking too happy about being labeled an idiot, though he stayed silent for the most part. He didn't tell him about the G-Intersect impairing his fighting skills as he didn't want to belittle the valor shown by his spy friend by insinuating he didn't need her help in the first place. Nor did he wish to expose the O-Intersect to the other agencies. At least for the time being.

"It's alright, Sir. Even with that failing I would be proud to..." Before Sarah could finish her sentence, both General Beckman and Director Graham appeared on the screen.

"Took you long enough, you two," Michael greeted casually. "Busy getting anyone shot?"

"No, Admiral. But it's getting closer." Beckman was the first one to acknowledge his greeting with a cordial smile, sounding a bit more polite than she usually did whilst attending the so-called informal mix-ups between government agencies. It didn't come off as a huge surprise, given she was addressing someone who was her handler at a crucial point in her career.

"My aim isn't as good as it used to be, Warhawk! Anyway, I suppose we should get to business," Graham replied with a smug grin. It was quite obvious he was ecstatic to see Bartowski in action. As far as he was concerned, it was a dream come true. Things finally came full circle and the Intersect ended up where it was always supposed to be, despite the machinations of a certain douchebag. He then turned his sights on the man of the hour himself.

"First of all, I want to congratulate Mr Bartowski for the initiative, bravery and wit he showed in dealing with Mauser's squad and leading Agent Walker and Major Casey to the bomb. A bomb which, according to our leading EOD experts, was unlike anything they had ever encountered before. And you managed to disable it as well. Without any help from the Intersect!" he exclaimed with a critical and appraising look. "You seem to think well on your feet, Mr Bartowski. I didn't expect it from a mere nerd like you."

"Director Graham, Sir." Chuck replied evenly. While the comment sounded strangely uncomplimentary, he decided to let it slide. People like Graham weren't exactly used to complimenting low-level analysts. Or treating individuals as if they were normal, actual human beings and not simply as tools to be exploited. "I was just performing my civic duties. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Ahem. If you don't mind, Mr Bartowski..." General Beckman cleared her throat, looking at him questioningly. "How were you the only person in the room to have the entire Intersect database downloaded into your brain?"

"I am not... sure myself either, Ma'am." Chuck responded with a slight hitch in his voice, clearly scared of giving too much away about his true origins. "A brilliant English neurosurgeon named Hartley Winterbottom came up with a concept to improve memory retention for those suffering from brain trauma using a perfect formation of three-dimensional textured subliminal imagery of all correlated data. Theoretically, it was supposed to create a mental map the human brain could recognize in an instant. They never tried it on a person before – at least that's what the official DARPA project report said. Though from what I can recall, in order for that to happen a person would still require the ability to perform intellectual analysis and recognize the visual trigger to perceive the mental map..."

Graham's eyes narrowed as he looked at Chuck, leveling stony eyes on him. "What exactly do you mean by that, Mr Bartowski?"

"The program used a line from an interactive fiction computer game Bryce and I created back at Stanford. Only someone familiar with the coding process could have discerned the pattern behind that cross-data correlation. But that's just a theory on my part, Ma'am." Chuck explained matter-of-factly.

"What?" Beckman asked incredulously, staring perplexedly towards him. "How do you know about Dr Winterbottom's research?"

_Damn, I really screwed this one up. She's on to me now._

"Actually, a friend of my sister from the NSF wanted me to help him upgrade their software for Brain Computer Interface and she is a huge fan of Dr Winterbottom's work. I mean... he is considered a legend in the field of cognitive neuroscience," he replied with an awkward and slightly embarrassed smile, looking to Sarah for moral support. However, her face remained an emotionless mask as a tight line formed on her lips. She stole a momentary glance at him, then avoided his gaze upon realizing he had been staring at her.

_Is she mad at me? But why would she be mad at me?_

He then looked at the Admiral, who made a slight gesture with his hand to calm him down. Deep down, Michael was still fuming over Larkin's actions and how they resulted in Chuck getting swept up in this whole affair against his will. He had always secretly feared the possibility, but never thought it would come to fruition in such a fashion. However, if he wanted to help his flesh and blood out, he had to keep his professional facade up.

Unbeknownst to him, a certain CIA agent thought the same.

_I so want to have Bryce Larkin's head on my office wall right now._

"Don't act so surprised, Diane. Charles is an overly curious kid and highly knowledgeable in a breadth of disciplines. He does a lot of stuff like that in his free time."

Beckman quickly masked the shock in her eyes and smiled gleefully at him for the first time since the meeting started. Chuck didn't know whether to feel happy or scared about gaining attention from such individuals.

He wouldn't have minded if Sarah smiled at him like that, though.

Graham was the one to respond this time around, continuing in a grim tone. "Well I must commend you for reaching the right conclusion once again, Mr Bartowski. This intel might be far above your pay grade but I believe you have earned these answers through your actions and for being highly knowledgeable. Dr Winterbottom was working alongside a defense contractor / special consultant known only as Orion. They were working on a project which would have allowed agents to download mission-critical data directly into their minds before going on missions. In order to do that, the data was encoded into the pictures and shown to the subjects. Orion also theorized it was possible to bestow the subjects with a certain number of special skills, such as survival skills, enhanced combat abilities, code breaking, various forms of dancing, and so on. Unfortunately we lost Dr Winterbottom to a very unfortunate car accident and Orion hasn't been seen or heard for many years."

"Orion?" Casey raised an eyebrow, appearing slightly confused. "Though I assumed we were working on the Intersect in the past, I believed Orion was just a myth."

"He is very real, I assure you. However... there is little known of him right now." Beckman replied with slight hesitation in her voice. "I personally led the global manhunt against him when he went AWOL all those years ago. Unfortunately he was always one step ahead of us, thanks to his unorthodox mindset and mastery of electronic warfare."

Chuck buried his head in his hands. The wheels of his brain started to turn at a furious speed upon hearing the mention of his father's infamous moniker and the other Intersect inside his brain.

He knew what their answer would be, given his father's elusive nature. Nonetheless, he had to ask. At least for his own personal satisfaction. Unlike the agency he had been working for these past two years, the CIA and NSA were actively involved in the Intersect's creation so they might have learned something he himself couldn't, despite his having the original supercomputer stuck inside his head.

"Do we have... access to the program m- Orion and Hartley were working on? That might provide some clue as to... how to unload this database from my brain." He asked in a slightly excited tone.

"I am sorry, Mr Bartowski. I was informed by my predecessor that Orion stole the prototype they were building and wiped everything related to him and the project from our database." Beckman replied, releasing a long-suffering sigh. Both Kernan and Casey were surprised to hear how genuinely apologetic she seemed about the whole affair.

Chuck's mood deteriorated further. He stared at the table in front of him, starting to look crestfallen. "...Why? Why me? Why do I have this luck? Why did Larkin do this? Why did he use the very same game we built as the visual trigger to download the Intersect?"

"Drowning in constant sorrows is only for the weak and feeble-minded, Charles. I would hate to think that you, the crown jewel of Fort Belvoir, would take such a route." Kernan called him out in an encouraging tone.

Chuck looked at all three agency heads sharply, trying to appear as calm as he possibly could. He barely held a waspish remark back.

"Fine, I get it. Whether I like it or not, I'm now entrenched in this national security emergency. The computer in my head is a very complex piece of technology and no one really knows how to unload these files from my brain. So what will the next course of action be? What exactly do the powers that be have in mind for me?"

Casey shook his head with a quiet grunt. "My admittedly low opinion of this moron keeps rising. He has his priorities set straight, I will give him that much," he muttered dryly.

Sarah sent him a nasty glare for calling Chuck a moron, though she agreed with the general gist of what he said. Most individuals would have cracked under the mounting pressure of this chaotic situation – that much was obvious.

But not Chuck Bartowski.

That was only one of many things she liked about him.

"As of this moment, you are the most important and valuable member of the United States Intelligence Community. That fact alone might earn you some very deadly enemies," Beckman continued in an awkwardly sympathetic tone, despite being blunt and concise as usual. "If anything were to happen to you, there would be serious repercussions for everyone involved. It would be much better if you were to continue your Intersect work from a secure, off the books underground facility, preferably outwith the States. You will have the option of getting these files safely removed from your brain once we figure out how to do that. Until then, we would like to test your ability to cross correlate and find patterns from a wide variety of intelligence sources. We will also provide you with round-the-clock protection and take care of any amenities you ask for."

"I can't shake this bad feeling, General," Chuck replied tersely. He didn't want to expose his jitters any further. "The complex program Bryce Larkin was planning to use to download the Intersect inside his brain... It must have been written by someone who knew this project really well. Most likely a scientist who knew about the... original version Orion created. The Wolf Pack ascertained the delivery route for the next-gen tank plans no one was supposed to know of. Mauser's team learned of Agent Walker's undercover alias and smuggled a terrorist into a NATO event, right under the noses of the State Department, FBI, DHS, and every other damn agency that was involved. Traitors and scumbags are everywhere, Ma'am. Not just in the CIA and NSA. And unless you deal with them... I won't be safe, no matter where you put me."

His unease with the overall situation could not be shaken. It didn't help that his natural paranoia was making him a bit shifty. He kept expecting someone from Mauser's group to pop out of nowhere and grab him. Having no idea who they were and what any of them looked like wasn't helping him, either.

Honestly, who ever heard of a group of rogue spies targeting people like him? Aside from the O-Intersect inside his head, he was a nobody. That thought had given him pause more than once. The shady group was likely after the supercomputer inside his brain, and that meant nothing good for him.

Perhaps thinking so much was making him more shifty than he wanted to admit.

Michael raised an eyebrow in surprise. Charles had never struck him as the scared type. In retrospect, he supposed it was a good thing; it was better to be worried about your own well being than to have such unshakable confidence in your own skills so as to walk boldly into the face of danger. At least at this point in his career. It showed the chain smoker that his nephew knew his limits well.

Before Chuck could invite further ire from the NSA director, he bit the bullet for his sake, glancing sideways at Beckman apologetically.

"Diane, I hope you don't mind Charles! He has been through a lot recently and is just a bit shaken right now. But he raised some valid points here. We now know for sure that there exists an organization that wants to destabilize our entire Intelligence Community. If I were to send Charles into protective custody, I'd at least like to get the full scope of the situation beforehand. Just to make sure we aren't walking into a situation where we don't know what's coming."

Beckman fixed the NGA director with a stare. Her eyes bore into him, but he simply looked back calmly. She let her hard gaze travel around the table, her expression calculating.

"There are some unknown factors at play, Michael. We don't know who is working for this shadowy group. But let me assure you once again – I will try my level best to ensure Mr Bartowski's safety and well-being isn't compromised in any way."

"No offense, Ma'am, but the situation asks for a different approach. Given the nature of this emergency, we should conscript him into our DDP and DSDP development programs and see where he could go from there. If we take Bartowski to a safe house, we'd never know how the Intersect fares in the field or discern the true extent of his abilities. It is my personal observation that he is far more capable than your everyday office drones. His unique knowledge and skill set might very well be our best shot at taking out this group of traitors."

That speech came as a shock to everyone else. It was only through years of training and discipline the three agency heads managed to keep their mouths from gaping wide open. Such a glowing report from Major Casey was essentially unheard of. If the Admiral didn't know better, he'd suspect a touch of admiration and respect for the way Chuck handled himself thus far.

Sitting up even straighter, which Chuck hardly believed was possible at this point, Beckman spoke through tight lips. "Mr Bartowski, why don't you wait outside? We will wrap up this meeting soon. I'd like to have a word in private with Major Casey and Agent Walker."

Chuck's eyes widened, appearing visibly confused about why they suddenly wanted him out of this meeting. He glanced towards Kernan who gave him a silent look of understanding, indicating that everything was under control. At least for the time being.

As he was about to get up, he felt Sarah's foot gently traverse his leg for a brief moment, causing him to look up. She gave him a subtle apologetic glance before avoiding his gaze once again. That didn't go unnoticed by Kernan, who gazed at her curiously. Chuck quietly left the room.

_What is really on your mind, Sarah?_

Beckman continued from where she left off, albeit in a slightly calmer and more composed frame of mind. "Any liabilities in case we decide to go through with this idea of yours?"

Casey let out a snort mixed with a grunt. " Bartowski is married to his work. He has no love. He has no life. No social obligations apart from a sister who lives in LA. Just like me in a sense, he goes every night to and empty apartment, eat half a stale dinner, fall asleep, wake up, finish the other half and then goes back to doing his job. Besides, We don't need any more info than what Admiral Kernan told us before the start of this meeting. Two words – _moronic knucklehead_.

Beckman chimed in, her voice as stiff as her spine. "In other words, he is a raw civilian with tremendous potential but lacks the requisite discipline of a serviceman."

Casey replied through gritted teeth, admitting begrudgingly, "That's what I said."

Michael shook his head with a sigh. It seemed both Diane and Langston's thoughts were following the same track. He didn't know whether that was supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing.

Suppressing a grin, Graham turned to Sarah. "Your opinion, Agent Walker?"

She replied calmly in a detached but professional voice. Michael couldn't help but be reminded of his own past when he used to put up a charade – a well rehearsed act of sorts – pretending to be a cold-hearted and obedient subordinate in front of his superiors.

"That sounds fine and dandy Sir, but it doesn't change the fact that the future of our entire Intelligence Community may depend on Mr Bartowski. It's vital for national security that he remains alive and safe. We can't have him run around DC unsupervised. If we are to do this, you need someone trustworthy who can not only make sure he is accompanied and protected all the time, but also provide him with a healthy, stable working environment so he can continue working on recovering the Intersect database for us. Only then will our scientists be able to rebuild the Cipher. This mission will likely be a long-term one. Major Casey may respect Mr Bartowski somewhat, but he lacks the temperament to actually work with him. They are as compatible as oil and water."

Beckman agreed, albeit reluctantly. What she said about Casey might be true, but it couldn't be helped. He was the only one she could trust with this assignment.

Sarah continued with a bored expression. There was no shift in her voice indicating this was anything more than words coming from a mere report. "I have gotten a good read on Bartowski from the very beginning of this mission. We were also acquainted for a short while before his recruitment into the NGA. I can tell he is trying to mask his fear and stress by appearing professional, but he is worried and afraid. This project will take a heavy toll on him if it hasn't already. He is extremely shaken right now and needs a sounding board to function properly. Someone to give him an ear and help him cope with the situation. He cannot talk to his sister and he doesn't have many friends either. If his situation doesn't improve, the stress from this assignment will cause him to crack wide open. And once he emotionally shuts down, we will lose access both to his intellectual prowess and ability to utilize the Intersect. That's just my honest assessment."

Casey spoke indifferently, though it seemed like he had been asked to swallow a bitter pill. "I somewhat agree with Walker here. Bartowski has already developed a good rapport with her. She kept him calm while he connected the dots and correctly deduced the assassination attempt on General Stanfield. Bartowski thinks he can't rely on anyone to get things done and can be a bit too stubborn to deal with due to that attitude of his. I'd rather not deal with that aspect of this assignment."

Beckman leveled stony eyes on Sarah. "I am thinking Mr Bartowski would be more receptive towards working with a different CIA agent, given Agent Walker's past relationship with Larkin. What do you think, Admiral?"

"I doubt it, Diane. As far as I know, Charles believes in letting bygones be bygones and wouldn't let trivial stuff like that bother him," Michael replied casually. He then turned to Sarah; he could see something in her eyes, something strange, something unspoken. "Do you believe this might be an issue, Agent Walker?"

Sarah tried her best to keep her tone professional. She was still angry with Casey for attempting to ruin her bond with Chuck and didn't like that Beckman was also trying to have her removed from this operation. "Sir, we have already talked about it so that shouldn't be an issue. I doubt he'd respond as well to anyone else."

Beckman deferred to Michael and Graham. "Well then, Langston. Walker is one of yours so I leave that up to you. Now that Bartowski has become a human repository for our intel, we should prioritize cooperation above everything else and work together to dismantle this group before it causes any more harm." Both agents and even Graham himself nodded upon hearing this. "I do not think I am needed any longer, plus I have to address the National Guard about a certain EOD expert who doesn't exist as far as they are concerned. Michael, I still have an uneasy feeling about this mess but we will discuss it some other time. Keep me posted about anything else pertinent, Major."

"Yes, Ma'am." Casey nodded with a salute as Beckman signed off.

"Agent Walker, as you've said yourself, this operation will likely be a long-term one. No one knows when we can ascertain how to safely remove those files from Bartowski's brain." Graham took a deep breath and whatever emotion might have been on his face disappeared. "Are you sure you want to go on a dangerous mission while babysitting a dork?"

Sarah crossed her arms, addressing him in her usual perfectly detached manner. "Mr Bartowski has obvious trust issues right now. Having information about the shady organization involved in the Intersect theft inside his brain isn't going to help him much with his fear and anxiety, especially since he knows people wanting to harm him are working within our Intelligence Community. He is just a civilian who became a victim of his own success, paying for his natural born genius with his fortune. His life had just gone from quiet and uneventful to chaotic and life-threatening. I think it'd be in the best interests of this operation that I move into his complex and increase my proximity to him, just to make sure he remains in a proper state of mind. Keeping him functional and making sure he doesn't lose faith in us is the most critical part of this assignment."

Michael gave her a contemplative look. This Walker was certainly turning out to be a fascinating character. While she wasn't lying and her arguments seemed completely valid from an agent's point of view, he could sense something was amiss. He had already seen the footage of the coffee date between her and Chuck; it seemed quite obvious that wasn't how Graham's Wildcard Enforcer would have conducted herself while attempting to bring someone into their fold. And there was something he heard about a mission in Budapest which smelled of redacted details. He would make sure to reach out to his friends within the OIG and see what that was all about before their next meeting.

For a brief moment, her eyes flared with defiance before the Ice Queen facade returned.

_Looks like this project just got a little more interesting._

Though privately smirking, Michael sat stone-faced staring at Graham, trying his best to keep amusement out of his voice. "Are you sure about this, Viper? Selling this kind of protection detail might involve a far more intense cover."

Graham looked back at him with an indignant expression, before turning to Sarah with a terrible scowl. "Normally I would not condone such a thing, but we can't afford to let Bartowski have a nervous breakdown before he recovers the database. If making yourself available to him is necessary to keep him sane and functional, you should be prepared to cross that bridge. I will grant Mr Bartowski the latitude to do his own thing outside working hours, given we owe him a certain level of trust and gratitude. However, I expect communication anytime he flashes or makes any major breakthrough with the recovery process."

Sarah nodded, with her best poker face on. "I understand. You can count on me, Sir."

"Agent Walker!" The CIA director continued in a stern tone. "This assignment will test your ability to remain emotionally separated. Your job is to protect Mr Bartowski for as long as it is in the best interests of the government. If the time were to ever come where the Intersect must be destroyed, or we must prevent Mr Bartowski from falling into the wrong hands, you must be willing to do what is necessary."

"You mean kill him?" Michael asked disdainfully, staring at him with disgust in his eyes.

"I pray it never comes to that, Warhawk. But sometimes we have to make painful choices for the greater good. I am pretty sure Diane would agree with me on this," Graham said flatly. He then continued coldly, "If all else fails... we might need to pull a kill switch on this project. I trust you two will be able to comply with your orders if it comes to that. Agent Walker, Major Casey?"

Casey glared down at the ground. "I accept, Sir." He grunted in displeasure.

Sarah clenched her jaw. She really _loathed _the idea. It was nearly impossible for her not to glare at Graham, but miraculously she managed to keep her Ice Queen facade intact.

"Crystal."

And just like that Graham signed off, concluding the meeting between the three agency heads.

...xxxxxx...xxxxx...xxxxxx...

**To all my loyal followers and reviewers, you guys are awesome! I always appreciate your feedback and your comments, so don't feel shy about it.**

**The whole point of this story to make you feel good.**

**So Be happy, dammit. Lol XD**

**Take care and stay safe ya all :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Beta'ed by my good friend LancerGaShinda**

**Is It Genuine?**

The dark-haired Hispanic individual, who just introduced himself as Major Joshua McQuaid from United States Special Operations Command, passed Chuck a steaming cup of coffee. Chuck brought the large unbranded Styrofoam cup closer, enjoying the smell that wafted from it. It was a dark brew. His sister's favorite.

"Mr Carmichael!"

While he was sitting outside in a comfortable visitor's chair, Chuck had managed to detect his presence when he appeared behind him, albeit barely. The man really knew how to move quietly. His stealth stats were likely pretty damn high, which kinda creeped him out; yet at the same time he found it amusing. Though considering what he saw in those files, Sarah might be better at playing ninja.

_Much _better.

"What was it like? Dancing with death, I mean. I have always been fascinated by the concept, but nowadays I obviously have obligations that keep me from... exploring," Major McQuaid asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. Chuck thought for a moment before answering.

"It was odd. It felt like I was waking up from a dream. Like my whole life had been a vivid hallucination. Before I could really understand what was happening, I woke back up again. Sorry if that wasn't too helpful," he explained. Major McQuaid nodded with a smile.

"Not a problem. Most people don't remember their near-death experiences especially well, at least the first few times. What concerns me the most is what happened during the clash between you and Frank Mauser," he said. The human Intersect immediately felt any sort of comfort he had settled into fade away.

"I figured. I don't really have time to explain everything though," Chuck replied quietly. McQuaid shook his head.

"I am well aware of what might have happened. Your status as the host of the original Intersect has been known to me since I took over from my predecessor." He grinned, taking a sip from his own cup of coffee. Chuck furrowed his eyebrows.

"Since you already know about my _performance issues_, what else do you want to talk about?" Chuck asked skeptically. Major McQuaid chuckled to himself.

"I would like to commend you for your courage. You willingly paid the ultimate price for the sake of saving others. Admiral Kernan has left no stone unturned to prevent you from being used that way. But nobody could have foreseen that the actions of one man would destroy all of the DNI's and our agency's safeguards and preparations. And given the current scenario, it'd be hard to get you in touch with the neuropsychologists and neurosurgeons working on the original project right away. But we will try our level best to fix this issue as soon as possible."

Chuck nodded begrudgingly. "It's alright, I guess. I will do what I do best and start working on deconstructing this new program. No worries."

Major McQuaid smiled at him. "Of course we can always count on you to do your best. Recent events have already stirred up a hornet's nest in the Intelligence Community; the CIA and NSA are running around like headless chickens. The DNI believes it's not a great idea to let them know about the true extent of your abilities as doing that might risk exposing you to FULCRUM. So it's better for everyone involved if this operation were to remain as small as possible. Anyway, you have spent a lot of time studying computational neuroscience and bio-inspired computing. Any ideas about how the other Intersect inside your head works?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing towards him curiously.

Chuck leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh, surmising the G Intersect's nature based on what he learned from studying and analyzing the O Intersect inside his head. "It seems to... operate as a live database and data filtration system. There is no pattern to what actually makes this thing tick. But I can access these files at random by things or events that might evoke a specific reaction in my human brain's activity area. The knowledge comes to me in pictures and documents, sometimes interspersed with visuals or audio files. But it's quite intrusive and disruptive, like Atom Ant is beating on my eyeballs with a super-powered sledgehammer. It's really hard to get a good look at all these government secrets or remember anything specific from the data flashing in front of my eyes. Thankfully, I have a really good memory and plenty of experience with the O Intersect kicking in... and filling the blanks in my skills or working memory; otherwise it would have been nearly impossible to make sense out of such broad and vague facts. And, I feel we might need to change the watch's frequency based on what the agency neurologists say after the fMRI and EEG reports come out."

"Glad to see you are still thorough as ever, _Lieutenant __Carmichael_. I will pass this information on to Dr Dreyfus and his team of researchers. Anything else you would like us to do?"

"Are we sure about keeping Agent Walker and Major Casey completely out of the loop in regards to my true origins?" Chuck shrugged, rolling his still sore shoulder. "They will continue keeping an eye on me to protect me from this so-called evil organization. But at the same time, with them watching my every move, I won't be able to use the previous biometric data points to further my research either. This will just make it harder for me to finish the suppression code and remove all these shady government secrets from my head."

_But is it really the best time to think about removing or suppressing the Intersect?_

McQuaid laughed humorlessly in response, pointing towards Michael's chambers where the meeting still continued behind closed doors. "I guess we will have to eventually cross that bridge if the CIA and NSA refuse to lessen your surveillance after a certain period of time. You shouldn't worry much about such trivial stuff though. I highly doubt you need to fear any sort of retaliation from those two. They might be our country's best intelligence officers, but if you still retain even a semblance of control over the original iteration of the Intersect – like you did back at Camp Mackall – you can chew them up and spit them out without any trouble."

Chuck snorted. "I dunno. Maybe I can, but I'd rather not. That's not how... _this thing _is meant to be used. I think I know what my- I mean Orion wanted to do with the Intersect, how I want to utilize it, but it's..." Chuck couldn't finish his sentence. He thought of all the lives that were in danger. He thought about all the people who'd already lost their lives to FULCRUM. Even Bryce, who wasn't his favorite person didn't deserve such a cruel fate. "I don't... want to argue with anyone about it right now. I don't... I don't know the best way to move forward with my life."

A hearty grin flashed across Major McQuaid's lips as he set the cup down. "I am a soldier and maybe I have a simplistic view of things but I believe you are going to do great, kid. I just know it."

Filled with a sudden burst of ecstatic energy, Chuck hopped back on his feet, feeling touched beyond words. "Thank you. Thank you very much for your kind words."

_I guess I will have to get twice as strong and smart now that I have two Intersects to deal with. I must do my level best to live up to your name... Dad!_

"Not gonna finish your coffee, Mr Carmichael?"

The remark caught him off guard, stopping him in his tracks. Chuck looked down at the cup of coffee in his hand. He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile, slightly embarrassed by his actions. "Well, I just ..."

"I'm just messing with you, kid. Leave it. Your official bodyguards will be showing up at any moment," Major McQuaid assured him. "Besides, there is something seriously wrong with this coffee machine. Even the tuna with noodles my unit got served at Haiti tasted better than this crap."

Chuck mustered a smile, sipping from his own cup. "It's not that bad once you get used to it."

Major McQuaid replied jokingly, laughing a little, "Only a select few possess the mental fortitude to psychologically trick themselves into thinking something like that. You should teach the new recruits how to resist enhanced interrogation techniques in your free time, Mr Carmichael."

"I don't mind," Chuck said, almost sounding serious. He then clenched his jaw and added with a tiny grin, "But I would like a raise first."

"It has been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Carmichael. The US Government needs more individuals like you." Major McQuaid chuckled, extending his hand which Chuck shook with an exuberant smile.

McQuaid was a survivor. He had been a part of Advanced Force Operations and specialized in unconventional warfare on foreign lands. He'd experienced terrible things, and committed acts he wasn't exactly proud of. McQuaid wasn't someone who laughed often. But even he had to admit that Chuck was very different from the people he dealt with every day, and it was kind of refreshing, even if that just made things a lot more complicated on a whole other level. He knew it was going to be difficult for Chuck to accept some parts of his life as he was clearly an emotional guy. However, he hoped that being part of this operation and finally seeing the things actual spies had to see and do for a while would prepare him enough so that he could endure the burden of truth about his parents someday.

He understood why Admiral Kernan was so concerned about him. Carmichael was a really good man. Maybe too good for this line of work. He was privy to the rigorous training regime (even by special force standards) he underwent – pushing himself to his absolute limits both physically and mentally – in order to get a full grasp of the original Intersect inside his head. Despite being highly trained in virtually _every _aspect only people in special forces or elite HRT squads were supposed to know, he still had a certain innocence about him. He respected human life and was always reluctant to attack someone unless he or his loved ones were threatened. He was different from any other soldier, analyst or spy he knew; he was special in his own way. And that wasn't just because of the supercomputer(s) stuck inside his brain.

_Agent Walker seemed quite impressed by him and that's the least outwardly disgusted I remember seeing John Casey in the presence of a non-Marine. Not entirely enough to reassure me that Charles is in good hands, but still a step forward from what I initially expected of them, based on their reputation within intelligence circles._

_Let's wait and watch for now. Perhaps they aren't just burnt-out robots like I originally thought._

...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxxx...

It took them nearly forty five minutes to reach their designated agency safe house. Chuck didn't know whether that had something to do with actual distance or if they were trying to confuse any potential pursuers. There were hardly any landmarks of note; just a bunch of suburban houses, a lot of trees and a few small apartments.

When they finally arrived at their destination, he was surprised to find himself in a humble two-story brown-roofed building (plus a basement); most likely fit for a family of five or six. The kitchen behind him was large and well kept, and a few couches and chairs were placed in front of a large widescreen high definition plasma television set. Upstairs were three bedrooms plus one guest room, a bathroom, and a balcony that overlooked the front of the house.

The basement, which appeared to be one of the biggest storage units he ever laid his eyes on, was set up like a huge-ass games room with a freestanding heavy punching bag and several other pieces of heavy-duty gym equipment, which appeared to be rather expensive. It was not something your everyday workout enthusiast could afford; heck, he doubted even Captain Awesome could afford stuff like that (unless he asked his _filthy rich _parents for financial support), and he was a frigging surgeon for crying out loud.

Even so, it wasn't all that surprising as he already knew Sarah owned a Porsche Carrera GT.

_Why do I get the feeling I am heavily underpaid compared to these people?_

He turned around only to see Casey pulling a portrait out of a box he had been carrying with him, and he could have sworn he saw the Major salute when he put it on the desk. He almost burst out laughing upon realizing it was a picture of Reagan. Thankfully, with great effort, he managed to hold his laughter back. It didn't seem like the smartest thing to do given how many guns he kept pulling out of another small box he brought along with him.

"General Beckman is offering to send someone to set up the TV, the home theater, the computers and the sound system. But I believe that might compromise the location of this safe house. Think you will be able to handle that?" Casey grunted, walking over to a cabinet before withdrawing two towels, tossing one to Chuck and using the other to wipe the sweat off his face. He then grabbed an energy bar from the kitchen and plopped down on the largest couch.

Chuck sweatdropped at seeing the real-life Frankenstein's monster in such a casual state. "Puh-lease! Now you are offending me, Major. I am a Level 2 certified TEMPEST professional. Not only can I do it better than anyone Beckman could send, I can also do things that'd blow away your mind..."

Casey immediately turned to face him, crossed his arms over his chest and began to chuckle. "Ha! I hope your degrees and certificates aren't just for show, Moron. If you mess this up, you'll have my boss to answer to," he remarked, his smirk broad. "It'd be really embarrassing for Admiral Kernan if the NGA's crown jewel – someone whom we are expecting to fix the supercomputer with billions of dollars worth of government secrets – can't even handle something simple like that."

Chuck didn't roll his eyes. He wouldn't give Casey the pleasure of getting a rise out of him. He was tired, especially thanks to everything that had gone down on officially the most disastrous day in the history of his life, apart from the day his best friend decided to screw him over by getting him expelled from Stanford and stealing the love of his life. The night was only half over and he didn't really feel like getting into any more fights tonight. He was more than capable of taking him on, but why bother?

So he nodded curtly, inserting a bit of frost into his voice, "Don't worry, Major Blue Falcon! I will have it finished before you can even spell _semper fidelis_."

Casey gave him an incredulous look at first, though Chuck merely continued to grin confidently towards him. He then slightly narrowed his eyes, snickering a bit. "Never a dull moment around you Chuck, is there? Never mind. I will be in the outhouse in case you want to grab some pancakes," he suggested with an odd smile, his expressions remaining a mystery to Chuck.

And just like that, he left the room with a lazy wave.

Chuck was dumbfounded upon hearing that. There was an outhouse as well. He definitely didn't see that one coming.

He walked up the stairs, curious to see how the interior of this government-sponsored house looked; as he began to look upward, he walked into something. He almost lost his balance but a timely flash from the O Intersect prevented his fall.

"Ow!"

He stopped rubbing his head and looked up; apparently it was Agent Walker's behind he had walked into, having incorrectly believed she had already climbed the stairs. Chuck was amazed at how the tight leather pants showed her derriere off. It was wide, yet ample.

_Mmm, it's perfect!_

She looked down and raised her eyebrows in amusement. Nevertheless, it made him all the more worried and embarrassed.

"Enjoying the _view_, Mr Bartowski?" she asked with a playful smile.

"I-I t-thought you had already gone upstairs," Chuck said in his defense. "I-I d-didn't realize that you... umm... your... I mean, you were still..." He turned away, unable to keep looking at her.

_Way to go, Chuck. You just made yourself even more of a weirdo than you already did._

Sarah merely giggled and nodded.

"Just wanted to see if you could still take a hit, if you take my meaning." She then leaned in with a mischievous smile, and gave him a wink. "It may not look like it but I'm made of sterner stuff. So take caution next time." She waved cheerfully. "Come on, let me show you around!"

Chuck rolled his eyes and followed her. Her sudden change in personality from how she acted during the meeting with their bosses was grating on him a bit. _So now she's back to flirting with me... What the hell is going on with her? _Already he could tell she was leading him towards one of the bedrooms. He was extremely exhausted right now and the fatigue made his mind wander to places he didn't want to explore. He wondered if he let his feelings for this beautiful woman cloud his judgment. She was no longer the caring, shy and socially awkward girl he met at Harvard five years ago. She was a highly trained intelligence operative, one of the top Farm graduates, _Bryce Larkin's former lover and partner_, a master of the dangerous game of deception, and someone whose reputation preceded her, born of years of field experience. He didn't want to doubt her, he really didn't. But he just couldn't help himself and it was eating at him from the inside.

They finally made it to one of the decently sized bedrooms. He looked around for a moment, then went towards the window which offered a rather impressive view of the area they were in. He was enjoying the feeling of fresh air on his face.

Everything appeared to be pitch black in the night, but where the moonlight shined, everything was illuminated. The trees were rustling, their leaves and branches swaying harmoniously with the wind. The steady croaking and whistling of animals sounded like a well-orchestrated musical piece.

Footsteps penetrated his hearing, but he made no effort to put his guard back up. Which meant he clearly failed to notice the ambush coming up from behind until it was far, _far _too late...

"Nice to see you are enjoying _this view _as well," Sarah chirruped after the initial shock of bodily collision had worn off. Thankfully, her twin frontal shock absorbers fulfilled their function nicely. The fresh scent of a shampoo she recently used filled his nostrils as Chuck took an unconsciously appreciative sniff.

He turned around to greet her only to suck in a sharp breath of surprise. He barely stopped himself from staring for too long. Her curvy and athletic form was more than apparent with that particular attire, or lack thereof. She was wearing a lavender-colored see-through negligee. It didn't cover her slim, toned stomach, and her skin tone – tanned and flawless – somehow made her look even better. He could even see her lacy, black underwear beneath, after he got a better look.

All in all, Sarah Walker was one hell of a sexy spy.

_HOT DAMN! First Lou and now her. Why does it have to be babes all the time?_

He quickly averted his gaze. His mouth was wide open and his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment as he tried his best to stare at the ceiling. He was a little nervous but managed to calm himself down. Granted, Lou had worn more risqué clothing in his presence, and she really enjoyed seeing his reactions. But one look in Sarah's direction... he just couldn't trust his eyes with that.

"Sarah... I didn't know you weren't... dressed... I just wanted to talk to you about stuff but I guess this is a bad time." He fumbled a bit but managed to get the words out.

"What do you want to talk about, Chuck?" she asked with genuine concern as she sat on the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside her for him to sit down.

"Are you sure you want to talk, dressed like that...?" he asked, making a troubled face.

"Is there something wrong with the way I am dressed?" she said with a very fake, very innocent look on her face.

Standing there, he couldn't respond right away.

_There's nothing wrong with it if you're planning on seducing me..._

"Isn't it a little cold here?" he asked, only for Sarah to shake her head in firm denial.

"Not at all. This room is quite warm," Sarah explained with a childlike innocence in her voice. Chuck took a deep calming breath and fixed his gaze on the floor instead of the lingerie-clad temptress. Steeling all of his morality and conscience, he complied reluctantly and sat on the soft mattress and thick comforter to the left of his spy friend.

"Will I be living here from now on?" Chuck gave her a questioning look.

_Wow, so I've got this whole place to myself? I always knew I was special, but not _that_ special._

"Not just you, silly. Both of us will. Major Casey will be staying in the outhouse, which is the closest bit of neighboring comfortable accommodation. Don't worry, he will make sure to stay out of our crosshairs unless he wants to spend the rest of the year in physical therapy." She smirked, slowly placing a hand on his thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Such a gesture was far too intimate in Chuck's opinion, given their current level of familiarity. He felt his entire body flushing with heat and looked away, hoping Sarah wouldn't see how their close proximity and her warm touch was affecting him. He could practically feel her warm breath kissing his neck. Even if she was a honey trap, planted into his life to exploit his skills and knowledge with her good looks and charm – only to leave as soon as he served his purpose – he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist her.

Of course, the Fort Bragg side of him – the soldier, trainee, federal agent or whatever else that side of his psyche was called – was not in charge of his actions right now. Truthfully, it hadn't been for quite some time. He couldn't entirely trust his sense of judgment when it came to Sarah and that was starting to become a huge problem.

Sarah, on the other hand, continued to explain enthusiastically. Chuck didn't have any idea in the slightest what the hell was going on, besides the fact his spy friend clearly looked happier than usual.

"You have government secrets worth billions of dollars in your head. You are also the chief architect of the AI program our agencies want to use to recover those very secrets from the device Agent Larkin planned to use in order to become the human Intersect. There are many people who might come after you to get access to it. You are far too important to be left in a vulnerable state. So our bosses have decided to make me the head of your personal security." With an impish smile, she put her other hand on his shoulders, starting to massage them gently. She then whispered into his ears, "I hope you don't mind, _r__oomie_!"

However, as pleased as Sarah seemed with this arrangement, which also pleased Chuck a little, it didn't help much with the fact that he was anxious, frustrated and scared out of his wits.

Chuck looked at her incredulously as he extricated her arm from his shoulder and put some distance between them, much to her chagrin. It was necessary for him to think properly about what she was saying right now. He was having a hard time understanding why an operative of her caliber would be so happy about receiving such a boorish assignment from her agency. He knew how much Lou hated being on bodyguard duty. She practically complained about it all the time!

"Uh... Sarah? I don't get it. When we met at Harvard all those years ago, I clearly remember you talking about living an exciting life, going on adventures, traveling all around the world. Besides, Admiral Kernan referred to you as one of the best clandestine operatives in the Intelligence Community. Why would someone like you, a woman of mystery and a kick-ass federal agent, want to insinuate yourself so deeply in the life of a mundane GEOINT analyst like me, rather than go on epic adventures and save the world? I am already a part of this joint inter-agency operation, and the CIA and NSA have agreed to share ownership of the Intersect. The last thing I want to do..." His voice trailed off, and he stared off in the distance as memories of the night Lou broke up with him returned. Sarah could see how tired and weary Chuck was on an emotional level, yet he was still trying to be considerate towards her. "...is to be responsible for holding you back from doing something... you really want to."

_Just like I did with Lou..._

"So... Do you want Admiral Kernan to talk some sense into Director Graham? I can talk to him if you want." Chuck looked up at her earnestly, though she refused to look him directly in the eye.

She couldn't wrap her head around what he just said to her. Nobody in her life ever really cared about what she really wanted to do. She swallowed slowly and thought hard about how she was going to respond. At the same time, she couldn't help but feel hopeful; not just about the success of this project, but their potential future as a couple as well. The emotions she felt were on the verge of overwhelming her. Still, she couldn't stop the smile or blush spreading over her face as she sheepishly looked away from him; such an action looked out of character to Chuck, given how she had been acting around him moments ago.

Chuck looked down at his hand as he felt Sarah reach for it and intertwine their fingers. Then she scooted closer to him, finally leaning into his side with her cheek resting on his shoulder.

"I am sorry for putting you through this... situation. Bryce was my partner... and bedfellow." After a long moment of hesitation she stammered, really hoping that part hadn't come out as hopeless and pathetic as it sounded to her. "I should have known what he was planning. If only I had paid more attention to Bryce and whatever was going on with him, I could have stopped the Intersect theft. I should have. Then you wouldn't have gotten involved with the Intersect to begin with, let alone accidentally becoming the new human Intersect," she said, hanging her head in shame and guilt.

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Sarah," he said, laughing heartily. "You have already apologized to me a million times. I've said it before and I''ll say it again – it's not your fault. Whatever happened with Bryce... it couldn't be helped. Besides, sooner or later, Mauser would have come after me anyway. He worked for the same organization Bryce did, after all."

"You are too good to be true, Chuck. If more people were like you, the world would be a better place. As I became what I am, I acquired the mentality that heroes didn't exist. Over time that mentality grew into arrogance; I saw myself as superior to these people. Basically, I stopped caring... But you proved me wrong. Especially in those moments you took Mauser on for my sake and defended me from Casey, despite knowing about my past endeavors with Bryce... I felt how much you truly care about everyone. It really cracked my aura. That's why I convinced Graham to assign me to your personal protection detail. Because all I want right now... is to be around you," she said deeply, out of the blue.

Her eyes locked onto his, full of passion and a mix of emotions he had trouble identifying; then they turned dreamy, which freaked him out somewhat. Even so, the both of them just kept staring at each other in plain silence until Chuck finally spoke with an exasperated sigh. "Sarah, why do you like me so much?"

"I'm not certain, though I have a theory. I think the first time I met you at Harvard... I just knew. I knew there was something special... between us. A connection of sorts. I've always admired your strong loving heart and your spirit. Both as a guy who went from a kiss to a handshake and as someone who beats down assassins with a little chemistry know-how." Reaching out, she gently cupped his chin with her hand and brought his gaze up to her face, as his eyes finally took in the small happy smile on her features.

"I..." Chuck mumbled, not sure what to say or do in a situation like this. While Chuck still had some lingering doubts in the back of his mind, it all seemed to disappear as they looked into each other's eyes once again.

Giggling to herself, Sarah leaned in, licking her lips to wet them before ever so slowly pressing them to his.

Feeling her soft lips on his, Chuck blinked in surprise, realizing what just transpired.

_She is kissing me!_

It only lasted for a moment, then Sarah pulled back and moaned in satisfaction, as if she had tasted something delicious. Chuck, on the other hand, just looked bewildered, his mouth hanging wide open in surprise.

"Any more questions, Golden Boy?" she asked playfully, enjoying the stupefied look on his face.

"Da-yum... I mean..." Chuck cleared his throat, finally smiling towards her. "_Damn_, sorry. It's hard to maintain precision of language here," he whispered, actually gulping.

_There is no going back now..._

"Good for you." She grinned and kissed him again.

As they continued with no signs of stopping, his hands settled on her waist; a while later, they slowly traveled to her ass before he twitched and hurriedly returned them to her waist. Sarah was having none of that, so she graciously put his hands back on her ass – much to their mutual delight.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note**

**I understand that the flashback chapter made a lot of people upset. I planned to add this into my disclaimer of but I don't think I can wait that long.**

**If you want to tell me that a something I wrote is utterly horrible, tear it to shreds point-by-point, that's fine. I'll admit it sure as hell isn't fun to have something you worked hard on criticized, let alone ripped to pieces, but if the critique is clear, I can try to learn from it.**

**Let me tell you what I feel about Bryce. He is very callous and calculative, he is also very firm about what he believes and what he does and you can see it in his actions. I mean he is always very specific about what he wants to do and he never second -guesses himself. That nature of his makes him a very effective field operative. He didn't become a spy out of obligation for someone, he became a spy cause he wanted to.**

** Sarah is very smart herself but she is a bit of a hothead , she has some deep rooted issues and shown to have trouble sorting out her personal feelings. And she also got through her red test in the same time frame. Bryce played on her insecurities when she was vulnerable and managed to gain her approval as her partner. That argument wouldn't have worked well if Chuck was never found by the NGA and was working at Buymore. Unfortunately he was having a great "normal" life according to her. We all know that his life was anything but normal. But Sarah didn't have the luxury to know that.**

** So the argument was more like "He barely managed to catch a break from what I did and now you want to mess with his life again." And that part actually got to her**

**So, no I wasn't trying to make Sarah look like an idiot or having a mindset of seven year old like some of you are accusing me off, she is just more humane in nature compared to Bryce which worked against her this time around. If you still find what I did here was unbelievable and made her look even worse compared to her canon counterpart, you need to go back and see her reactions to Bryce- Fleming conversation.**

**I understand why some people don't like the fact how easily she forgave Bryce for what happened at Stanford. But to me, it's quite simple. She just couldn't imagine Chuck becoming a spy or even worse guinea pig for a military project. I never said she was completely A-okay with what Bryce did. But she has the sort of mentality that it's okay if a loved one gets hurt in the process if you are trying to protect them. So once she acknowledged his intent (Not actions) she found it hard to stay mad at him and.**...**well that eventually happened. There is also this strange "everything turned out well for Chuck in the end." factor at play( IN THE CONTEXT OF THIS STORY)**

**I know it's unpleasant to watch when characters get their way despite acting like utter morons but that was an event of past which didn't have much to do with the current storyline.**

**Sorry for the long rant, I was really saddened upon seeing all this hatred being directed towards me, I knew I had to make an explanation.**

**For those who are loyal and patient, thanks for bearing with me.**

**Mak89 out.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Important Notice**

**I don't see the point of hating my characterization of Chuck based on the chapter he didn't even appear in but now I kinda see where you are coming from in regards to certain aspects of the whole fandom in general. I actually prefer Castle and Beckett WTWT dynamic over Chuck and Sarah but that's besides the point. So I was hoping to do something different, a more pleasant dynamic between the couples like I usually watch in korean dramas. My logic behind Chuck being rather nonchalant about the Stanford affair wasn't because he is in "wuv" with Sarah, I was more or less trying to show that he doesn't really give a damn about Bryce (and Jill as well) anymore. Also he was trying to diffuse the situation and planning to "talk" with Sarah later on, but he never got that chance. Though considering his usual portrayal in stories, I understand why that might have pissed off some of you**

**Nevermind, so far the only problematic aspect about my version of Sarah is the casual fling she had with Bryce. If that's the thing the core audience of my story dislike so much, I am willing to rework on that scenario by making her unaware of his true identity upto the point of him going rogue (I don't see Chuck carrying Bryce's picture everywhere with him for her to know how he really looked). That won't require me to make much revisions in the most recent chapters and I can replace the flashback with something related to Chuck's training montage or a new chapter from current storyline. I guess that's more sensible way to deal with this issue rather than bringing in Zondra/Lou out of nowhere.**

**Now as far as me taking so much time getting to the pilot is concerned, there are already tons of canon rewrite stories available. I don't have the desire and/or motivation to cover every single episode of this show. And, if I don't feel like not continuing with this fic, I will just write an epilogue and move on to something else. This is the longest story I have ever written , so it's more or less like a child to me. So instead of killing this story over one wrong move in these ridiculous trying times , may be I can learn from my mistakes and make it better. I hope you still have some faith left in me.**

**This is the final AN on my side. If you want to communicate with me further, you have to PM me or wait till the next chapter to get your answer.**

**No matter what's going on in the world, know that the reviewers and followers of this fic always have my gratitude.**

**Sincerely,**

**Mak89**


	28. Chapter 28

**Warning: A little bit of this author's smutty side comes out in this chapter.**

_...xxxxxx...xxxxx...xxxxxxx..._

_Jill was lost. That was how she felt. Despite being around her sorority sisters and all sorts of popular people on the campus, she felt vacant and hollow. She seemed to have lost any common ground she had with her friends. Only Chuck could fill the empty void in her life. But after spending the previous night with Bryce, she felt dirty and unworthy of his affection. However, she still kept daydreaming about him, continued to fantasize about all the time they spent together. She paid no attention to what her pompous sorority sisters were talking about on the breakfast table. Perhaps once this whole affair was over, she would beg for his forgiveness and he might take her back after learning why she pretended to break up with him and seduced Bryce. She couldn't bear to even imagine that Chuck might not resume their relationship at all._

_She heard a loud knock on the door, breaking her train of depressing thoughts. She quickly opened the door as she was already expecting this person to show up sooner or later._

_"Miss Roberts, please don't make things more difficult than they already are." Said person was Professor George Fleming, the CIA recruiter on their campus and the man who helped Bryce to destroy Chuck's career._

_"I am not asking for much, Professor. Just do your thing and make sure Chuck is proven innocent in the end_. That's the only way out for you_," Jill replied in a firm tone. She was in no mood to negotiate with this man, believing she was the one who_ held all the cards. Making a show of the cell phone in her hand, she added, "Otherwise you know full well what I am capable of."__

_"I can't do that, Miss Roberts. The CIA Director wants him expelled at all costs. If I were to try and save him, it might not only ruin my whole career but my entire life as well. _I tried to play nice with you – I really did – but it seems you can't take no for an answer. Well then, maybe it's about time I gave you something to cope with your boyfriend's situation. Perhaps a greater purpose in life_," he explained with a crooked smile._

_Jill was taken aback upon seeing his sudden change in attitude, but only when he removed a syringe from his front pocket did she realize something was very wrong with this situation. Before she could scream, he lunged forward and plunged the syringe into the side of her neck. As her eyesight faded, Fleming took out his cell phone to make a call. Her hearing lasted a little longer, allowing her to hear him talk; his words seemed simple and harmless, yet they carried an ominous undertone._

_"_I just found you a promising recruit for your cause_, Bernie. Make sure to take good care of her. She is the daughter of your best friend after all."_

...xxxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxxx...

Kissing was an art Chuck had slowly become familiar with; during his relationship with Lou, rarely a day passed without the exchange of at least a dozen lip locks. She initiated most of them to start with, but eventually he became just as proactive. As confused as that woman made him – even well after their breakup – he privately enjoyed her passionate and enthusiastic nature. His primal side, which he kept at bay more often than not, always appreciated when she initiated things like that more often.

Right now, that side of him was winning over the more logical, rational side of his brain. So much now that he fully lost himself in the sensations, focusing his entire being into returning the kiss Sarah gave him as best as he could with his own arms encircling her to hold her close.

After a long moment (which felt short), he dazedly opened his eyes, a part of him realizing he was slowly being led backwards and blinked to find himself at the edge of the fancy-looking bed.

"S-Sarah..." He breathed out as the higher functions of his brain were still in the process of rebooting.

"Shh..." She quieted him, and he found himself sitting and looking up at her. Some of her magnificent platinum blonde hair spilled over his body.

With that, she gracefully undid her robe and let it fall onto the floor.

And just like that, his mind crashed. She was wearing a translucent negligee with bra and panties. It was really funny. Lou had modeled for him and even paraded naked a few times to get a rise from him after he moved in with her. At first, such overtures had incited his embarrassment greatly, but over time, he slowly got somewhat used to her nature and became less bashful.

And yet, that feeling had returned in full now that Sarah was doing the same thing.

Chuck twitched, only being able to register her warmth, softness and sweet scent as she brought him closer to her, feeling completely and utterly content as his head was pulled into her bosom. It was no wonder he never felt his back hit the bed as she gently moved to straddle him, leaning down to kiss him once again.

She moaned as the kiss deepened once again. Their touches became more frantic and rough with each passing moment, grasping at the other with a need which couldn't be satisfied without feeling every inch of the other's body. More sensitive areas were touched, which would elicit a moan of pleasure from the owner.

However, as things started getting more intense and the sensuous ministrations on Sarah's side started becoming more meaningfully directed towards certain areas, his mind suddenly snapped back into the game as logic blared its alarm and began to beat those primal instincts back.

He had experienced sex before. Whilst it was an incredibly pleasant experience, it was nothing new.

"Sarah," he began, regaining some semblance of control over his actions whilst struggling to fight all the gratifying sensations threatening to overwhelm him. All he could see right now was her leaning over him. The left strap of her matching bra had fallen to the side of her arm, enough to expose more of her breast and areola as a hardened nipple did its best to hold the fabric from covering it back up.

"What's wrong? Why'd you stop?" Sarah asked, breathing raggedly as if she was running out of air. Her face was flushed from the rush of emotions she felt.

"I am sorry." Chuck took a deep calming breath, which proved enough to regain his control. "It's... It's just too soon." His hands rose to gently take a hold of her shoulders, slightly stunning her by bringing her close to hug her. "I am sorry, Sarah. But it's not a good idea to mess around when it comes to sex. Someone close to me... got hurt... in the past with this. And I refuse to let you find yourself in the same predicament–" He was silenced by a finger placed on his lips.

Sarah smiled softly at him, leaning her head against her shoulder and nuzzled him. "Shh... I know what you mean. But..." She averted her gaze for a moment. "I just... wanted to show that I am really happy... being here with you," she said vulnerably.

"It's okay," he said, finally free from the spell he had been under a few moments ago. With that, he admitted something he was positive his past self would never have said aloud. "I like you, Sarah. I like you a lot."

"You do?"

"Yup, absolutely."

"Then, why?"

He closed his eyes and opened them, fighting back the disappointment that a large part of him felt right now. Steadying his breath, he then motioned his hand to encompass them, the bed, the room. "We should actually, you know, go on a real date with each other. Get to know each other as people." He finally met her eyes as she looked at him agape. "Let's figure out what we honestly mean to each other. What our priorities are in regards to... this chaotic situation we're living in. We'll have plenty of time to fuck each other's brains out once we've done that."

Sarah looked as if she was trying make up her mind about something. She looked from right to left, apparently unsure how to proceed. There was nothing but growing reticence between the two of them at the moment. Chuck grew slightly nervous. However, she cupped his cheek with her hand, giving him a genuine, tinged-with-sadness smile, instead of the chipper and playful one she had upon arriving in this room.

"I am sorry, Chuck... but we can't do that."

Those words hit Chuck harder than the ass-whooping Mauser inflicted on him. At least physical pain was temporary and something he had gotten used to due to the intense training regime he went through. Moments like this – like when Lou broke up with him before she eventually disappeared from his life – felt a million times worse. This was a problem he had since childhood. Whenever someone called him names and/or denied him anything he felt he rightfully deserved, it always felt like being beaten to the verge of death. Sarah's denial was no exception. For a while, he remained silent, contemplating how to respond.

"What do you mean by that?" Chuck gasped. He wanted to make sure he was hearing right.

"We can't be... the sort of couple you want us to be, Chuck," Sarah repeated in a whisper.

"I wouldn't have asked you that if I didn't like you, Sarah. You were the one who pushed me into... embracing these feelings in the first place." Though Chuck tried his best to mask the hurt, he was sure some pain had leaked through his voice.

"I really can't thank you enough for listening to me. But you literally having the Intersect in your head... changes things."

"W-why?" Despite his best efforts, Chuck's voice cracked. Given the way she had been acting around him, what she just said and expressed to him moments ago, he felt she really liked him. But now everything was spinning out of control. He was totally confused.

"Chuck, I will say this again. I care about you, I really do. But with you becoming the most valuable intelligence asset to ever exist and with everything I've endured in my personal and professional lives, it's just too much on my lap. Be reasonable, Chuck. We are in an extremely delicate position right now. We just have to redefine our relationship as time goes on."

Chuck suddenly found himself getting angry. Very angry. Unbeknownst to Sarah, those were the same words his former girlfriend told him right before the day they broke up.

"That's bullshit, Sarah," he snapped. "We both know it."

"I know you are not used to rejection, but hey, who is?" Sarah attempted to pacify him with a kind smile, leaning in to kiss him on his cheek. "Please don't see this as such. I just need some time to think how to work my way around this tenuous situation. I admit your current position within the NGA... and your unique skill set prevents you from being considered an asset, but you have no idea how determined Beckman and Graham are to have you on their side. There are no rules regarding this situation, which makes it even more dangerous and unpredictable." She fought to keep her voice from breaking.

"You don't seem to get it, Chuck. I am trying to have the very most I can have with you. Of course I want more than sex. The truth is, I want to be in that kind of relationship much more than you do. But I am a CIA agent. I have a duty to uphold, which is to keep you safe and sound at all times. And now they want me to bring you on missions to test your ability to utilize the Intersect. Given how smart and incredible you are, I really need to concentrate on doing my job. I simply can't allow myself to become compromised. We can still be friends with benefits, at least for the time being." Sarah took a long pause to gather her composure.

Chuck tamped down his anger and frustration and tried to stay focused. Sarah wouldn't take him seriously if he started yelling at her. A part of him couldn't help but wonder if she would still hide behind protocols, rules, guidelines, orders and whatever else she could come up with if she learned of his true nature and everything he went through for the past two years.

He clearly understood that being the G Intersect host caused some major, overwhelming changes in his life. Nonetheless, he believed that a couple was supposed to accept who they really were to each other. If she couldn't even trust him to help overcome all these complications they were facing right now, how could he possibly find it in himself to entrust her with his own secrets? Sure, revealing the O Intersect would cause her to view him in an entirely new light. However, he really didn't feel like resorting to such cheap methods and demeaning his father's greatest innovation, something he managed to create only after ten years of hard work.

The plain truth was that he needed more from her. Sex felt like an exciting prospect, but it also felt like a cop out on her part. Yet pressing her for commitments and demanding things she wasn't emotionally prepared for would be detrimental. Trust wasn't exactly her strength. What made him genuinely scared was the fact she didn't trust even him, the man she supposedly liked, to help make it work as a real couple. It was risky opening up to someone who could hide behind protocols, rules and guidelines. Still, she already admitted to him it was more than a job to her, and she wanted the same thing he did. At least that set her apart from how her peers might have reacted in a tricky assignment like that.

_Don't get attached... Don't become friends... Don't fall in love... Or you won't be able to finish the job._

That was the motto Roan Montgomery taught. He taught it to him, he taught it to Lou, he probably taught it to Sarah as well. And as far as he knew, most operatives took his words to heart. But Sarah didn't... at least as far as he was concerned. Perhaps there was hope for their situation.

He found himself wishing he had some way to contact his ever-elusive deadbeat father and hear his advice. _What do I do, old man? __Can I really trust her with... our secrets?_

Sarah looked at him from the corners of her eyes and noticed he had not moved an inch. Chuck seemed lost in thought, with a look of sadness and disappointment on his face. It sent a sharp stab through her heart, knowing she caused it. She hated to see him sad like that. It had taken every ounce of her self-control not to give in to the temptation of pursuing a relationship with him, like she originally intended to. But she simply couldn't go into this all willy-nilly and ride off into the sunset with him, even though her heart and soul yelled at her for not chancing it. Real life simply didn't work that way for people like her. However, the lines between them were already blurred; she just couldn't find it in herself to see him as just a friend. Granted, there might be no official rules regarding this situation, but if her superiors were to discover what truly motivated her to take this assignment, the consequences might be quite severe on her end. That was her biggest fear. She'd rather prolong her stay in his life as much as she possibly could, than risk it all on a whim and lose the chance to be with him altogether.

He shook his head slowly, a deep sigh passing through his lips as he continued. "Regardless of what you and our bosses think, I am not some damsel in distress who needs to be protected from everything. I am capable of defending myself and I can easily learn from you or anyone else willing to teach me how to handle myself on the field if it comes to that. Still, I really appreciate the fact you are being honest about your feelings. That counts for something."

"Something?" Sarah sighed, clearly frustrated upon seeing how the atmosphere changed between them. "It should be _everything_, Chuck."

"I dunno, maybe I guess." Chuck admitted quietly, placing his hands in his pockets, "But like I said before, I will take what I can get. As long as you are willing to do right... by us." He nodded towards the end. He looked a bit unsure of himself but Sarah could feel he was trying to be sincere.

"Thanks," she whispered to him with a warm smile, giving him a satisfied nod. "There is a place for you in the bed too, you know?"

A shiver ran up his spine upon hearing that question. He looked at her as she extended her hand towards him, eagerly waiting for him to take it. "Well, how can I refuse when you put it like that?" he sweetly replied, taking hold of her hand as they buried themselves under the cover, comfortably laying side by side. Chuck was surprised to see her putting his arm around her waist so that her back was pressed against his chest as if she wanted him to spoon her, like a real girlfriend. It was extremely dangerous territory he was about to enter. Perhaps he made a huge mistake and things might never grow beyond sex, or there was a chance... he could push her into attempting to have something real. Perhaps he was just over analyzing stuff and he just had to let this situation play out before he could make up his mind about revealing everything pertaining to the O Intersect.

He carefully applied a kiss on the top of her head, then buried his face in her neck while a sigh of contentment escaped her lips. As they fell asleep, Chuck had one last thought.

_Dear Lord, I am in deep trouble._

...xxxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxxx...

Being told by FULCRUM that the situation with Bartowski was now his responsibility alone gave him little comfort. As far as Roark knew, he was still doing his job. He highly doubted Beckman would allow such an individual to roam free and likely would have dropped him in some secure bunker, away from the prying eyes of other agencies and the likes of _him_. It felt good to have those worries not take as much space in his mind as they previously did.

Like his wife told him – as far as Bartowski was concerned, his hands were washed clean. It was now up to the NSA to do their job and for Roark to mess with them using his influence. He really wanted to push this matter as far from his mind as possible.

But he still needed to get his hands on something which could ensure his survival in this cloak and dagger business. Something which might prove to be worthwhile to Roark and pacify his anger about not getting his hands on the Intersect host. He didn't want to sound like a mere private going against the US Army.

Perhaps he could make a great contribution to FULCRUM's ongoing Intersect research; make himself appear indispensable to the organization using his intellectual prowess. In essence, he wanted to be in charge of the whole project, rather than being used as a mere snitch and errand boy. It was the only way to ensure his family's safety and well being. However, he also knew that was easier said than done.

He needed more help with his research. Busgang had been good with his neuroimaging formula but he wasn't someone whom he could rely on to help him out, since he was responsible for bringing him into FULCRUM's fold in the first place. He was boundlessly arrogant and always belittled his achievements in front of everyone. He needed someone who was more of an unconventional... genius. Someone who could think outside the box. And the only person who came to mind... was the accidental Intersect host. If he got his hands on Bartowski's notes and the program he used to access the database within the PDA, he could conduct his own research from a clean slate instead of – like Meadow Branch – working from a template. He could find a way to duplicate what happened to Bartowski, but in a much safer way.

Which brought him to his current predicament – he was sitting in his car, parked outside the residential complex Bartowski lived in. He wore a surgical mask and goggles to conceal his identity.

He wasn't usually a thief or a burglar, in spite of what he was about to do. It was for that young man's good, given what Roark had in mind for him. Besides, ever since he found those equations in that diary, he suspected Bartowski had figured something out about the Intersect. Something the likes of Busgang and his team of scientists couldn't. A missing link of sorts. He didn't know how or why but the moment he laid his eyes on those notes, he just knew that young man may have the answer.

He took out his NSA-issue dart gun, an upgraded version of what he used back in his field analyst days before he made the major mistake of accepting a full-time research position in the agency and falling into FULCRUM's clutches. He also carried a vial containing a special variant of LSD, widely used by female field operatives to interrogate their marks without their knowledge after successful seductions.

_I hate doing this. But it's better than the alternative._ He walked to the door, then knocked on it and rung the doorbell multiple times. However, no one answered. Zarnow began shaking with anxiety. In two hours, he had to go back and meet up with a squad Roark had arranged for him in order to capture the human Intersect. He didn't know what he could accomplish in such a short time. A part of him also feared the possibility Bartowski would agree to work with Roark in return for monetary gains and attention from a pretty face who would be more than happy to welcome him with open legs. In that case, FULCRUM would deem him obsolete; if Zarnow wanted to walk away from this business, he had to remain important to them till the very end.

After no one answered for a while, he took out a lock pick gun from his coat pocket and unlocked the door. Zarnow made his way carefully around the house. Carefully putting his latex gloves on, he quickly rummaged his way through anything and everything that could be of use. He even sifted through boxes and dirty shelves filled with cobwebs, knowing they were the most likely places a smart man would hide things he wanted to remain secret; yet he found nothing. His search led him to the basement; he found nothing there either.

However, thanks to his heavy rummaging, the bottom of the wooden stairs which led him downstairs collapsed. He cursed under his breath, then made to pick the loose wood up and throw it away. That was the moment he found something taped underneath. Now that intrigued him. A clever lad like Bartowski went to great lengths to hide this, which meant it was something really important. It appeared to be a small diary, strikingly similar to the one he discovered earlier. But the equations within seemed completely out of this world, the likes of which he had never seen, even compared to what he read in Bartowski's notes. Given his own limited knowledge and vast experience, he could tell they were connected to each other in some strange form. Like he was modifying and improving them for a certain purpose. It almost perplexed him.

_BRAIN IMAGE INTERACTION AT GENETIC LEVEL._

Upon reading those words, Zarnow started getting goosebumps. He was clearly astounded by what he just read. It seemed similar, yet different compared to the original Intersect project he assisted Orion and Hartley with. How the hell did someone like Bartowski manage to get his hands on stuff like that? And why was he studying such unusual experiments in the first place?

At the same time, he couldn't help but feel happier than he ever felt before. No wonder the NSA wanted Bartowski so badly. What he had found here, in his house, was just unbelievable. This was a true masterpiece. With these notes, he could easily figure out how to fill the missing puzzle pieces in the Intersect research.

"What else is the NGA is hiding about you, Bartowski?" Zarnow felt pretty good about himself – actually, he felt pretty good about everything – when a smoke grenade crashed through the window, followed by a gunshot. The unexpected assault was more than enough to send him stumbling down the floor. Disoriented and frightened, Zarnow looked up as the stinging smoke from the grenade started impairing his vision and breathing as well. A towering figure, wearing a gas mask and dressed in military attire swiftly approached and aimed a KGP-9 at him.

"What the hell is going on?" Zarnow grew fearful as the muscular yet extremely agile figure closed the gap between them.

"Hello Doctor..." The hulking figure grinned at him, though most of his face remained hidden behind the mask. "To answer your question, Carmichael built himself a watch. A very nice one at that. I wish I could gift something like that to my daughter." He gave out a loud laugh.

"T-that squirt! He had been wearing a bug on him the whole time. That must have... recorded everything he said back then." Zarnow's eyes widened in realization as the man grabbed him by his collar, slamming him against the wall.

"Well, I don't think it was intentional on his part; otherwise we would have gotten to the interesting part much sooner. Never mind. Tell me – who exactly do you work for? Did you tell anyone about what happened to Carmichael?" The towering figure responded in a serious tone, holding the business end of a knife at his throat before Zarnow could scream.

"I haven't told anyone. Not that I ever... intended to," he said adamantly. "I was pushed... pressured by the one man who has bullied and threatened me countless times into serving a certain special access group within the Intelligence Community. A man whose name I cannot utter for fear of the consequences that I and everyone else involved in my life would suffer. And even he is nothing compared to the kind of threat _they_ pose."

The hulking figure's grip menacingly tightened around his neck. "Everybody talks, Dr Zarnow. You know that better than anyone else."

"But I am done talking, officer. Trust me, once you find out the truth behind this organization, you will wish you hadn't. Utilizing the Intersect is the only way to put an end to all this madness," he said sadly with no other explanation as he brought his wedding ring close to his mouth.

Before the military man could understand the meaning behind Zarnow's cryptic actions, the rogue scientist's legs buckled and his upper body fell towards the ground.

...xxxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...

"Desperate, Theodore. That is the only word I can use to describe you right now." Sat in one of his luxurious villas, Augusto Gaez spoke in his usual deep voice, quite amused by what his American acquaintance was saying on the phone.

"So let me get this straight. Not only did you fail to assassinate or capture Mrs Anderson like you promised, you now want my men to help you spy on some zit-faced nerd," he muttered dryly as he pressed a Cuban cigar to his lips. "For your kind information, I am not running some babysitting business."

"Gaez... I promise you a substantial amount of money in return," a restless Roark stated.

"Call me paranoid, Roark, but I am starting to think you want my folks to handle this issue because you are wary of interference from Uncle Sam. I may have contacts in various agency field offices and can manipulate a few senators like puppets, but do you really think I want to have the federal agencies constantly on my ass? What if my people risk being caught and flipped to the other side?"

"I assure you no such thing would happen, Augusto. I assure you..."

"Ted... Ted... Ted..." A disappointed Gaez sighed heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are slipping, my friend. There was a time when you had the balls to do something yourself. And now your supposedly best squad couldn't even deal with a CIA skank on their own. I am not sure the RING should continue doing business with FULCRUM if you folks don't get your shit together soon." Gaez placed his cigar on the ashtray, continuing in a careless tone, "Uncertainty and desperation, as I've told you many times, hold no value in our business."

"Now you wait a second, Gaez. I have done a lot on my end for you. Don't you dare suggest that FULCRUM has grown weak! You have no idea what we are truly capable of."

"Oh, really?" a stunned Gaez replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems your memory is a little faulty nowadays. Wasn't it _I_ that helped you build that impressive business empire of yours? I understand you're feeling frustrated because your pet bomber failed to do his job. Did it ever occur to you I am only trying to save you from further trouble? There is no need to spy on this puny... bomb disposal expert, analyst, Pinata or whatever this geek is called. So what if he used to be some big shot hacker? I can't afford to waste time on such nonsensical matters. I am busy running a worldwide crime network and I suggest you focus on conducting your own business as well."

There was no response from Roark's side, apart from heavy breathing. This only made Gaez's smile more pronounced.

"I am willing to give you one more chance to prove your worth. In future, if I ever encounter a potentially problematic situation, I will call you and you will not only listen to me, you will accomplish the task with finesse. That way, we can maintain this partnership."

"You dare..." Roark's voice rasped, "treat me like some LACKEY? You have no idea who you are dealing with, Gaez!"

A bored Gaez continued to ignore Roark's yelling as he shook his head in annoyance. The door to his room opened and an associate of his – a drop dead gorgeous beauty of Spanish descent – walked in. Gaez motioned her to sit down with a pleasant smile.

"Soon I will have power the likes of you have never witnessed," Roark finished.

"Anything else you might want to add, Theodore?"

"Make sure to keep this attitude once I have the Intersect within my grasp."

"Good. I was getting ready to fall asleep. You are way more effective than the Manhattan Cocktail my butler makes me everyday. Goodbye, Roark."

"You–!"

Gaez finally ended the call and looked at the pretty brunette sitting in front of him, taking her offered hand and grazing her knuckles with his lips, "You gotta look for the ones that know how to take the initiative and cut out the deadwood. Don't you agree, Miss Melena?"

Melena smirked, responding with a quick roll of eyes, "I feel your pain, Auggie."

"I see you have brought a gift for me."

Gaez opened the bag and began inspecting its contents. It appeared to be all cash. "Nice to see at least my associates haven't lost their edge."

"Just a small token of appreciation for helping me run a few operations smoothly last month."

After taking his share, Gaez returned the money bag. "There is a certain task I have in mind for you. But it might be a... little bit risky given your recent run in with MI6. So I think someone attached with the government might be more suitable for that assignment in particular."

"Don't worry about that, Auggie. I am a woman of action. I promise no harm, no foul. But only when necessary," she replied with a confident grin.

"Are you sure about that?" Gaez frowned slightly in response. "An international buyer has been asking for a tube of weapon-grade plutonium which is inserted into the frame of a certain painting. They are willing to pay _much_ more than our usual rate, but you might need to deal with some unpleasant company if you go there."

"Eh. You have no idea how exhausted I get from schooling these so-called spooks. They have nothing on me." Melena laughed while Gaez just chuckled upon seeing her confidence.

"You do this and I will make sure you are not only compensated very handsomely, but I will help set up your drugs business as well."

"La Ciudad isn't one to let a friend down, Auggie!" a determined Melena concluded with a playful wink.


	29. Chapter 29

**Path of Decision, Part 1**

As history proved, there was no such thing as an easy decision for military leaders. Wage war, or pursue peace? Send loyal soldiers into the unknown, suspecting a trap, or let an enemy take advantage while you were busy planning your next move?

But there was one thing for sure – you needed savvy people within your decision process if you wanted a great chance at succeeding. That had always been the first and foremost requirement of leadership.

Governing the NGA was no exception. Since his appointment to SOCOM, Major McQuaid had proved to be one of many such individuals. Admiral Kernan knew of him from the brief time he served under his best friend and mentor, VADM William Garrison. He highly doubted the man would lead him astray, especially in a chaotic situation like this.

"Your assessment, then?" he asked, feeling weary.

Disapproving eyes with the color of shallow sea water stared him down. "I am afraid to say this, Sir, but this organization seems to have people everywhere and they are much more entrenched than I initially thought. We don't know why they are after the Intersect in the first place, but it can't be good. It's definitely not good for the kid."

"What about the rogue operative you captured earlier?"

"Jonas Zarnow. One of the NSA's leading scientists who belonged to the original group assigned to work on the Intersect. Unfortunately, he had an escape route ready and I missed it, despite spending decades dealing with scumbags like that." Kernan could see that McQuaid was feeling miserable and guilty even though he tried his best to maintain his professional facade. His head hung low in shame as he spoke in a serious tone, "Still, there are a lot of people working for this organization. If you are still willing to give me a chance, I promise to come up with a better strategy and not get torched like this ever again."

"It's alright, Major. It's partly my fault as well. I should have seen it coming before making Chuck part of all this in the first place," Kernan retorted in a grim tone. He had no idea how deep this splinter cell actually ran within the Intelligence Community and it was bound to rear its ugly head sooner or later. "Should I consider pulling Charles into WITSEC?"

McQuaid instantly gave him a look of disapproval. "My professional recommendation is to let him learn from his current scenario, to experience the realities of being on missions and finally to accept this way of living."

"That wasn't the question." It was indicative of Kernan's healthy respect for the highly decorated soldier standing in front of him that there was no discernible irritation in his voice.

McQuaid didn't seem to care much right now, the disapproval giving way to visible antipathy. "Again, the best course of action, given these unique circumstances... is to let him function as the host of the government Intersect, at least for the time being."

"Why do you think that?"

McQuaid pinched the bridge of his nose. _Efficiently getting to the heart of the matter can be done with tact,_ Michael thought, exasperated.

"Placing him in protective custody is simply untenable. That would only invite more unwanted attention from this organization and there is no guarantee it would be an effective countermeasure against people who were able to bring Zarnow into their fold. There is no way out for the kid until we arrest each and everyone of these scumbags."

_Which is an issue on its own,_ Michael thought with a sigh. Even as an analyst, Chuck was a prodigy on a different level, even compared to his father; his pedigree would likely exceed Orion's in the long run. He feared that his fellow agency heads were also aware of that, and their thoughts weren't exactly charitable when it came to the host of the Intersect(s).

"I understand this isn't what you originally had in mind when you suggested Mr. Bartowski as the new architect for the Intersect AI, but you know what they say about best laid plans," Major McQuaid replied, a sardonic smile splitting his lips.

He had intended to keep the boy away from these situations ever since he learned of their connection; but at the end of the day, he ended up pushing him to the frontline. He expected much of the boy, and not just because he was a genius unlike any other - he certainly was - but because he was also his very own flesh and blood. To learn about his sister's children had rekindled a dying flame within him and he made a foolish mistake out of his desire to show everyone what Chuck was truly capable of. Of course he knew the risks, but he never imagined that Chuck would unintentionally download the same Intersect he was supposed to work on, exposing him (further) to the CIA and NSA. Especially when he was barely a year away from his retirement.

"Less of a mess and more of a puzzle." Michael sighed loudly and tiredly whispered, "If anything, we should be celebrating you catching Dr. Zarnow red-handed before he could cause any more damage to our intelligence community."

"And yet neither of us are celebrating, Sir."

"I have been told I have trust issues."

McQuaid slightly narrowed his eyes. As he and Kernan could attest, the life of a soldier was kind to no one. "Do you sense something amiss, Sir?" he asked out of curiosity.

"I sense nothing. Therein lies the problem."

_Ah._ When all else failed, when information was exhausted and no longer reliable, all a spy could rely on was their instincts. "The facts, then."

"This operation had been going smoothly for two years and we successfully kept knowledge of the original Intersect under wraps without much difficulty. The moment I brought the NSA into the picture, this splinter cell learned of our involvement with the Intersect, then managed to track down one of the CIA's top intelligence officers using her cover identity. I don't know _what_ to make of those two agencies right now."

"I believe the safest hands are our own. It's better for everyone involved if we investigate this matter unilaterally and not spread word of Zarnow's demise. It's also in our best interest not to reveal knowledge of Mr. Bartowski's _other_ Intersect to anyone." McQuaid paused, the silence laden with meaning. "That means postponing its removal from his head for the foreseeable future. Better if he chooses to keep it on a semi-permanent basis. I concede his status as the government Intersect host will keep him busy for a very long time, but a highly-trained individual like him won't take long to adjust to standard missions."

Michael frowned a bit. He had been presented with an impossible choice; one he never should have had to make. He hated being responsible for putting a member of his family in an extremely compromising and vulnerable position within the government for the sake of protecting the greater good. Nonetheless, he was the Director of the NGA and hadn't acquired that position by making emotional snap decisions.

"Understood. Thanks for your work, Major. That will be all," Kernan said, dismissing McQuaid.

He seemed a bit uncomfortable with not saluting, but the Admiral was in his civilian attire. And just like that, McQuaid silently left the small chamber, still ruminating his failure to capture Zarnow alive as the rogue scientist's last words continued to linger in his mind.

...xxxxxx...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxx...

It felt like the beginning of a very beautiful morning. The sky was clear, the sun shone brightly and a gentle breeze was blowing through the city, causing the trees to dance and sway. It was the kind of day most people would feel blessed to be alive to experience.

Chuck Bartowski wasn't that kind of person. He had never really been a morning person. It was a well documented fact that he liked to sleep in as late as possible and get up well after the sun had risen. At least until someone woke him up.

On a side note, considering who often woke him up back then, his wake up calls usually ended up making him extremely hot. And sweaty. And horny.

_Is it healthy to think about another woman at a time like this?_

As he woke up, he found Sarah was facing away from him, still blissfully asleep. Her pale blonde hair gleamed in the morning sunlight and contrasted sharply with her tanned skin. Her face was merely two inches away from his. His arms were around her, holding her close. Sarah's left arm was around his head, while her right hand was placed on his chest. One of her legs had hooked itself around his right leg sometime during the night, trapping it between her thighs, which put him in an extremely compromising situation.

There was a weird feeling in his chest as he felt the desire to lightly brush the silky strands off her face but he immediately snapped out of it. Abruptly facing the other direction, he let out a silent groan.

_So far, she has found it easy to compromise since none of us are yet to commit anything worth losing. But that might not always be the case. Darn! It's never easy for these spies to make up their damn mind and decide what's really important to them._

He shouldn't have reacted so strongly to her. He didn't want to because she had yet to make a real choice. And that clearly frustrated him to no end. He couldn't decide whether his feelings towards Sarah were a good thing or a bad thing.

It was natural, though. She was strikingly beautiful; easily one of the most beautiful – and deadly – women he'd ever laid his eyes on. It almost hurt to stare at her, constricting his chest. Physical attraction itself didn't mean much to him. That was simply biology. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was the fact she craved his company so much and simply took this assignment to be around him which got to him. The reality was they were no longer purely friends, but weren't quite close enough to go steady. Chuck felt he should at least try and see if he could spark something stronger between them. Maybe even something more permanent, if she was willing. It seemed she was already halfway there; the problem was whether he could get her to finish the journey. However, given how high-strung and stubborn these clandestine types could be when it came to their duties and obligations... he couldn't help but feel that someone just dropped a monumental mountain in front of him.

The logical and rational part of his brain still warned him against that idea. It didn't seem like a wise decision to make in a situation like this. Then again, rejection and failure were part of every innovator's life. If he couldn't accept and move past these emotions, or at least use them as a way to motivate him to work harder, then he had no right to call himself a proper one. Besides, getting dumped always made men of science stronger.

_Hehe, if life really worked that way, I would have transformed into a Super Saiyan by now._

He couldn't help but laugh to himself, withdrawing from warm memories of the past. His thoughts turned to his companion. He could feel soft and smooth skin on every part of his body, which coaxed a little smile from him. _Definitely unexpected_. It had been a while since he shared his bed with someone. He was by no means a pervert, but he felt comfortable sleeping with her. If it wasn't for her, he'd have undoubtedly spent the entire night looking into FULCRUM. His current knowledge of them was woefully inadequate, but he knew a few names.

_Tommy Delgado, Alexis White_... _Yari Demetrios._

Unbidden, a frown crossed his nearly twenty-six year-old visage. Had he looked in the mirror, he would have wondered who was staring back. What did these people have against him? What had he ever done to them? Nothing. And now General Beckman wanted to sequester him because of them. They had ignored him when he got the O Intersect; why couldn't they just do the same this time around and let him live his life?

Back in those days, he had plenty of time. His path had been fairly clear-cut - study the Intersect, de-construct it, analyze every single aspect of it and, ultimately, figure out how to remove it. They were all milestones on his grand journey.

Now though, he wasn't so sure. He had to survive what FULCRUM and other belligerents would throw at him. In addition, neither Beckman nor Graham seemed like the patient type, and they lacked the empathy his boss had. Once again, he had been forced to deal with things way above his pay grade.

He sighed heavily.

Besides, as much as he enjoyed having a supermodel cuddling him in bed, he knew he should probably get up, cook breakfast, take a shower and prepare himself for whatever the CIA and NSA might throw at him.

Chuck attempted to gently release Sarah's hold on him, trying his best not to wake her up. As soon as her grip was slightly loosened, she immediately countered by tightening her hold on him. He tried to extricate herself from her extraordinarily strong grip several times, but she just wouldn't budge.

"Don't leave, Brian. Please don't leave." She was mumbling in her sleep, her head gently coming to rest against his neck, her forehead nuzzling back and forth against him.

Closing his eyes, Chuck's face softened and he sighed in resignation. He could feel the ache in her voice, the desire to be held in her former lover's arms once again.

_She hasn't come to grips with what happened... I wonder if she will ever come to terms with Bryce's unfortunate demise and what he tried to do before that._

He couldn't even fathom what she must have gone through since Bryce died as a traitor to his country. The only thing he could even remotely compare it to was the nasty break up he recently had with Lou. But as far as he could tell, she never betrayed him to work for an evil rogue spy outlet.

"You are one troublesome woman to figure out, Sarah Walker," Chuck mumbled in amusement, his lips curling upwards in a small smile. He pushed a few silky strands of her platinum blonde hair behind her ear, and cupped her cheek. Sarah unconsciously smiled at the contact.

He felt the beast inside his belly growling, demanding food. Who knew cuddling with someone could make one so hungry? He really needed to get out of bed and make some breakfast but how the hell was he supposed to do that when Sarah was holding him with such an unbreakable grip? Suddenly a light bulb went off in his head as he took a bunch of pillows, including the one he slept on, and placed them between him and Sarah. Then he loosened her hold on him and instantly rolled out of her grasp. Thankfully, she didn't notice the loss of bodily warmth as she continued hugging the pillow, though Chuck could tell she looked a bit displeased.

He moved his legs over the side of the bed with the grace of a ballerina and stood up, making sure the floor didn't creak once his feet landed on the ground. Sarah still hadn't woken up, so Chuck decided to tuck her in. After pulling the covers over the blissfully asleep CIA operative, he glanced at her once more before making his way out of the room.

...xxxxxx...xxxxx...xxxxx...

Sarah's nostrils twitched as the aromatic scent of food wafted towards her. Opening her eyes blearily, she stretched her arms with a yawn. She soon realized where she was and why.

_Oh yeah! I talked with Chuck last night, we made out a little then I asked him if he would hold me till I fell asleep._

She originally intended to do _a lot more_ than just sleep beside him, but she was overwhelmed by the warmth he emitted. The sensation was like a warm and comforting blanket wrapped around her. Last night made her realize why he made such a great impression on her back then, something which lasted for years.

Sadly, all the men who happened to be greatly involved in her life – be it her own father or Langston Graham – turned out to be narcissistic bastards only interested in using her as a means to an end; sometimes as a blunt instrument, but usually as a surgical instrument to achieve their own personal goals and ambitions, and never as a fellow human being with her own set of values, principles and dreams. Chuck was a different case altogether. It wasn't just about him being cute, smart, thoughtful and everything; there was also the fact his sister raised him right. She taught him morals that kept resonating within him no matter how badly he got shafted by the world. That was what she admired about him the most.

And speaking of Chuck... Sarah turned her head to look around and blinked when she couldn't find him. Her nose twitched again as she inhaled the scent of breakfast being cooked. She didn't know what it was, but it smelled pretty good.

_He must be the one preparing food._

Wondering what he was cooking for her, she swung her legs over the side and stood up. She stopped near the wardrobe, picking up a random tank top and putting it on. Slightly fixing her messy bed hair, she exited through the door and started climbing down the stairs which led her to the kitchen. She craned her neck to see the very person she had been hoping to run into. His hair was wet and matted down a little, though surprisingly it still appeared to be a bit wild and unruly. Sarah could tell he just got out of the shower. And he was only wearing a pair of track pants, allowing her an unfettered look at his torso.

It was one thing to feel his body while she lay with him, but it was another to actually see the physical proof of how physically fit the young man in front of her truly was. Due to her heightened emotions and the sense of urgency, she hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of his powerful frame. Needless to say, it completely blew her mind to see how much bigger and stronger he had gotten physically. Her jaw almost dropped in surprise.

In comparison – despite being robust and extremely able-bodied, Bryce was a man of androgynous beauty. As much as she hated to admit it, he was probably the prettiest man she ever encountered. Then there were the muscle-bound brutes like Casey whose veins were hard to miss. But Chuck was different. Unlike Bryce, who lacked some muscle mass, the GEOINT analyst's body was packed with perfectly defined muscles. His pectorals, despite being considerably smaller than those of meatheads who spent all day in the gym, appeared to be quite hard and firm, as if they were miniature bricks. Even his serratus anterior muscles on either side of his torso seemed perfectly developed.

Sarah found herself checking him out and couldn't believe how incredible he looked without his shirt on. She never knew someone so intellectually gifted could turn out to be so ripped. In addition, he was well over six feet tall. The straw that broke the camel's neck was seeing him in possession of those V-cut abs; many of her fellow peers had tried – and failed – to gain them. It wasn't the kind of muscle mass one could gain with simple gym work. Chuck must have gained them through countless hours of hard work and extremely rigorous training.

In short, Chuck Bartowski was incredibly aesthetically pleasing to her eyes.

_Why did he go to such lengths to acquire that physical definition in the first place, though?_

These muscles weren't only for show; they were meant to be used in a fight. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to endure the beating he took from Mauser as much as he did, or use parkour to somersault his way through an open window, allowing him to reach that bomb in the hotel, outpacing two well-trained and highly decorated federal agents without even breaking a sweat.

This guy just kept getting more and more interesting.

She gulped and blushed. Chuck really was making her nervous. He got more handsome as time went by and it had been a while since taking a simple glance at someone made her breathe heavily. Sarah was finding it hard to concentrate as she turned away from him muttering a "Damn!" under her breath, biting her knuckles.

Upon hearing her footsteps behind him, Chuck turned around, a bit surprised at seeing Sarah standing behind him. Her cheeks were rather red amidst her tan complexion. She actually looked a bit bashful which confused him a bit.

"Good morning, Miss Walker. I hope you don't mind. As a minor token of gratitude for saving my life yesterday, I present to you..." Chuck then continued to stir his recipe on the frying pan, which happened to be a cheesy pizza with scrambled eggs, bacon and tomatoes, "...one of my best creations since I arrived in DC. I call it the Bartowski Delight," he declared in a jovial tone while spreading pizza sauce over the dough.

"That's... a good surprise." She nodded rather weakly. Sarah didn't seem as if she was paying attention to what Chuck was preparing for her. She was still impressed with his figure, given her eyes remained transfixed on his rock-hard abdominal region. "I had no idea the NGA paid their analysts to achieve _ten-packs_ nowadays," she smirked, giving him a mischievous stare.

That was when Chuck realized he had no shirt on. He was extremely embarrassed. "Oh sorry!" He proceeded to go to a random chair where his shirt sat on top.

"No no no! That's okay!" she quickly replied. She scooted to him and pressed herself against his back, then wrapped her arms around his torso and placed her chin on his shoulders as she looked over him from the side. "I can get used to a guy who knows how to work hard." She cleared her throat, her voice being husky despite the alertness of her eyes, and he couldn't help but feel a pleasant warmth spreading through him.

Chuck realized she had gotten closer to him once again. It also looked like she was in the mood for something other than breakfast. _I am not exactly comfortable with that, though._ He had to change the subject. He didn't want to take advantage of this situation; the discussion they had last night and what transpired early in the morning was still fresh on his mind. It wasn't time for them to go down that path.

Trying his best to regain composure, Chuck cleared his throat and focused on beating eggs and water with a wire whisk in a small bowl. "Sorry for bothering you, _Gorgeous__,_" he spoke in a sheepish tone as he looked over his shoulder at Sarah. "Can you help me prepare the table? The plates and silverware are in the lower cabinet." He nudged his head to the left and continued, "Ah, I am almost done with this."

"It's fine. Anything for a friend," she whispered to him in a seductive and tempting voice, then slowly traced a circle on his chest with her finger and walked towards the cabinet. He finally sighed in relief. Things were getting really uncomfortable with Sarah hugging him from behind. It wasn't that it didn't feel nice – it certainly did – but the way she talked and pressed herself against him with her impressive bust was a bit too stimulating for his taste, physical proof of which almost revealed itself before she (thankfully) released him from her embrace.

After making sure the crust was crisp and eggs were set in the center, he cut the pizza into slices and placed them on each plate Sarah held in front of her. She was back in his personal space leaning towards him a little, but enough that if she lost balance, she would end up on top of him. She stared at him with a dizzy, mesmerized look, then coyly bit her lip.

He gave her a questioning look. She was acting really weird right now.

After a moment, Sarah stepped backwards and stood a few feet away from him. Her lips were set in a teasing smirk as she placed the plates on the dinner table before turning back to him. "Oh, sorry. I was just stretching. I have a really sore back these days," she added playfully, one of her hands threading its way into his hair. "Spies have to be in tip top shape all the time, you know." Her tongue was caught between her teeth as she grinned cheekily at him.

"Umm... make sure to take good care of yourself. My life practically depends on it," Chuck replied nervously, his voice almost squeaking near the end. Wanting to spare himself any further embarrassment, he brought their attention back to the food, trying his level best to change the topic of conversation. "Here you go. A pizza loaded with colorful veggies, two different types of cheese and topped with scrambled eggs. No olives, just the way you like it," he declared jovially with a proud grin.

"Y-you remembered?" Sarah asked in awe, feeling touched and surprised at the same time as she moved back to the dinner table.

"I'm an analyst. I'm supposed to be good at remembering stuff," Chuck replied, barely withholding a smirk. After retrieving two glasses from the cabinet and a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge, he poured the lemonade into each glass and walked towards the dinner table, pulled the chairs out and passed one of the drinks to Sarah without a word.

Sarah winked at him, taking a bite of her slice of pizza. "Don't sell yourself short. You are pretty good at that." She then raised her eyebrow, curiosity dawning in her expression. "Can I ask you a question?"

Chuck snorted, barely withholding a smirk. "Agent Walker, asking me for permission. That bad, huh?" he lightly teased.

"Maybe. How in the heck... did you learn to move and fight like that?" Chuck could tell Sarah was eyeing him impishly. He looked at her but she quickly looked away, pretending not to have done so. "Not that I am complaining. I just... think I owe you a debt of gratitude. If you didn't have those amazing reflexes, you might not have been able to take on Mauser's squad like you did back then."

Chuck went silent for a moment. "Oh! I joined the Krav Maga classes 'cause my former roommate at WSU suddenly got fascinated with all the kung fu stuff... probably after watching the new Jackie Chan movie that came out back then. He begged me to come along as emotional support. He also told me it would be good for my self-esteem. You know... the whole "perfection of body leading to perfection of mind and soul" sort of stuff. The first few months were, well, quite frankly, they were disastrous. But eventually, I realized that I really hated losing to my friend. So I started working super-hard to make sure our spars always didn't end with me losing."

He rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish smile. He couldn't really tell her that he had to be in near-perfect shape in order to properly utilize the original Intersect's highly complex battle moveset, since working for the NGA didn't require any special physical skill. He had to divert her attention elsewhere. "Though I bet Captain Awesome could have handled himself a lot better in my situation. He is a certified instructor, after all. I mean... that's how he met Ellie in the first place."

"Wait, you seriously call him Captain Awesome?" Sarah asked incredulously. She took another bite of the homemade pizza, which turned out to be delicious with a capital D. Indeed, Chuck was no slouch when it came to cooking and she quickly took a mental note of that fact, adding that to the ever-increasing list of his good qualities.

"Yeah, but it kinda makes sense. Just wait till you actually meet him. Everything he does is awesome – signing up for the California National Guard, climbing mountains, jumping out of planes, snowboarding, scuba diving, flossing."

Sarah laughed a little upon hearing his explanation. Only Chuck Bartowski could come up with something like that. "Of all the places I would have thought we'd meet again, work was the last one. Actually, it wasn't even on the list."

"Yeah, I figured that too. It's pretty cool you are a spy though," he continued, grinning. "I always knew you'd be a badass. So being a secret agent working for the government – what's it like?" he asked, infusing a bit of wonder and awe into his words.

Sarah stilled for a moment. Even so, her face betrayed little surprise, like she had been expecting this question from him sooner or later.

Chuck could see the wheels turning in her mind. No doubt she was selecting her words carefully.

"Being a secret agent is like being a..." She searched her brain for the perfect analogy and eventually her lips curled into a small smile. "...superhero."

Chuck's face lit up upon hearing that.

"It's exciting. It's fun. You get to go on all these adventures and do amazing things," Sarah said, her eyes looking into the distance, voice growing impassioned. "You visit all of these beautiful places all around the world, doing your part in making this country a safe place from terrorists and criminals alike. But I had never counted on the price you must pay in order to do all that."

She trailed off, getting sidetracked for some reason. Chuck frowned a little upon seeing the sudden sadness wafting across her face. It felt as if a wall was cracking and fissuring under the pressure of a great weight.

"It's just hard to see whether I have made a real difference by committing all these distasteful and repugnant acts on a daily basis, all for the greater good. I know some of them were absolutely necessary, but more often than not, I can't help but wonder if I had been nothing but an unquestioning tool used by my superiors to further their agenda, which I fervently hoped tied with that of our government. Otherwise, there would be no justification for all these compromises I had to make to reach this point in my adult life. Sometimes I can't help but feel the world is just inherently evil, filled with all the same characters who suck the life and hope out of good people just for their own sadistic pleasures. At times, there seems to be no end to all these same recycled conspiracies and cliche villains who want to vent their frustrations by wiping out civilizations. I clean up one mess, only to find another one waiting for me around the corner. It's just so tiring."

Her head was bowed low, not meeting his gaze, as if she didn't have the strength to do so. She looked so small and vulnerable, and not like the ferocious woman who saved his life back in the parking lot. The strength which had drawn him to her in the first place was missing; her bright blue eyes were full of pain.

"Chuck, the life of a field agent isn't as rosy as the movies depict. Do you know how it feels to always want to be one step ahead? That one step turns into two, and then ten. In the end, you are just too far ahead. By the time I came to realize it, I could no longer stop. In future, if you see me doing things you don't like – and I am quite certain you will, more often than not – bear in mind that it's because I can no longer stop."

With a dejected sigh, Sarah slumped against her chair, her words hanging heavily in the air. He knew she was telling the truth by the look in her eyes.

Chuck quickly regretted asking her that question. He should have known better, given her deep-seated issues stemming from parental abandonment and non-existent self-worth. This whole thing with Bryce turning traitor and ultimately succumbing to a fellow federal agent didn't help much with the psychological trauma she might have suffered.

"Hey." He put his hand over hers, looking at her intently until she finally met his eyes, surprised to see him giving her an understanding smile. "I think you need to lighten up a bit about your job as a federal agent. Sure, I don't like the way I have been dragged into the spy world but that doesn't mean I don't respect what you do for a living." Sarah swallowed slowly, thoughts racing through her head at a million miles a second, trying to understand what Chuck was just saying to her. "I get it. Being a spy sucks. They take your rights away the moment you sign up for this job. Even before all that, you had to do things for your father that you never thought you would have to. Sure, you have done bad things and hurt people that didn't deserve it... but so what? Everyone in this world is vain, selfish and damaged more or less. No one out there is a saint. But people who are truly evil only know how to make use of everyone around them and prey on them. Those that want to look after others still have some hope."

"Why do you have that much faith in me?" Sarah couldn't wrap her mind around what he just told her. Nobody in her life had ever cared about her that much.

Chuck smiled faintly at her, though it didn't reach his eyes this time around. "Let me tell you something a very good friend of mine taught me a few years back. It's not what you do that matters, but who you are inside. You went to Harvard and joined the CIA because you wanted a new lease of life. To be a better person than the conwoman and schemer your dad turned you into. So I'd like to think, deep down, you always wanted to live as a decent person."

"That was back then. You have no idea what kind of... thug I have turned into. There is much that I deserve, but a second chance isn't one of them."

Chuck gave her shoulder a tight, affectionate squeeze. "Well, I know better than anyone how a total fluke can change your life. I believe that someday you will be able to reclaim your life and get a chance to turn everything back. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but I am pretty sure that will happen sooner or later. Just because you think there is no coming back from this life, doesn't make it true. There are ways to fix things that you feel can't be fixed. So stop being all upset about something that really doesn't matter right now and start living a little for yourself."

If Sarah had feelings for the brown haired young man beforehand, those feelings had just grown a lot deeper. She had never met anyone like Chuck before. Someone who was selfless and righteous, someone who cared so much about others, and someone who saw past her external identity as a CIA intelligence officer and acknowledged her existence as Sarah. She was very happy to finally have someone like him in her life who cared so much about what happened to her. This feeling of being genuinely adored by someone... made her feel warm all over. At the same time she couldn't help but feel trapped and burdened by her spy life more than ever, thanks to the long-suppressed emotions running rampant inside her head, making her want to do things and think things she normally never would. She knew very well that last night was a deflection on her part, which Chuck thankfully never called her out on. But she sure as hell wasn't close to being emotionally ready to fully embrace those feelings that had long lain dormant in her and let them get in the way of her assignment. Especially when Chuck's life practically depended on it.

"Is there anything on my face? You've been staring at me funny." Her thoughts were broken as she heard Chuck speak, only to meet his questioning gaze. It was then she realized she had been staring at him for quite a long time.

"I-It's nothing," Sarah stuttered as she blushed profusely, quickly averting his gaze. Usually she was the one who got reactions from other people, but now she tasted her own medicine, having finally met someone that could set her heart aflutter and make her blush like a lovesick girl. It was uncharacteristic of her. However, she quickly paraphrased something a friend of hers had once said to her what seemed like a lifetime ago. Something she had ingrained in herself and repeated in her mind whenever foolish notions of contacting him crept into her thoughts.

_Someone like him doesn't deserve having people like us in his life at all._

Meanwhile, Chuck just looked at her with a confused expression. Had he said something wrong to her, again? Then she stood up all of a sudden, appearing as if she was in some sort of daze.

"Could you just say something?" Chuck whispered. He was greatly troubled by her deafening silence.

There was so much she wanted to tell him but couldn't. If Graham and/or Beckman ever got wind of her true intentions behind taking this assignment, they would interpret such things as being unsuited to the job. Part of watching over a human intelligence asset like Chuck was the exit strategy. And one exit strategy required a willingness to ensure that said asset was eliminated rather than allow an enemy to take him alongside all the secrets he held inside his brain.

If she were to veer too far from what Graham considered _necessary_ to make Chuck more amenable and co-operative to whatever the government might ask of him down the road – if she were deemed unwilling to take such a shot – they would replace her with someone who would. And she told herself maybe she would... only if the situation arose where Chuck had a fate _far_ worse than death waiting for him. Only if he happened to be in a situation where he would be going through excruciating torture for a long time before ultimately dying anyway.

But she found it hard to even hold such thoughts in her head in the first place, making her even more upset and angry with herself. And if she couldn't sell it to herself, she'd never be able to sell it to Graham or the NSA's burnout assassin living next door . If she wasn't careful with how she conducted herself around Chuck, they would easily see through her professional Ice Queen facade sooner or later. If she was yanked away to an assignment to Mongolia, she would lose the chance to have any semblance of a relationship with Chuck in the first place. She didn't want to go back to who she was before she met him. That was her biggest fear. In order to remain around Chuck, she needed to protect herself from becoming lost in the version of Sarah Walker who wanted what she wanted.

She leaned closer to him, their faces practically only millimeters away. "I, uh..."

"Yes?" Chuck waited.

"Thank you," she finally said and went away looking completely upset, leaving the extremely baffled human Intersect behind.


End file.
